My Own Form Of Therapy
by meganface
Summary: Now that he's back in juvie, Mickey wants nothing more than to forget about Ian but whilst in his anger management class an unlikely friend forces him to face up to his feelings. IanxMickey. Reviews would be great :
1. Chapter 1

There had been a time when Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich were nothing more than passing acquaintances, only really aware of each others' names and the reputations that came with them. They hadn't even had any conversations, not proper ones, unless you count the times that Ian had told Mickey to stop stealing from the Kash and Grab or the times when Ian would hang out with Lip and Mickey a few years back, when the two of them had been something close to friends, talking intoxicated rubbish, as conversations.

Neither of them had ever had the desire to be anything more and so that was that. Besides, Mickey didn't exactly possess the abilities to make and maintain friends and Ian could see no reason great enough to risk getting the shit beaten out of him in an attempt to get chummy.

Of course that had all changed now. They had well and truly passed the line of being just acquaintances and they definitely knew a hell of a lot more than each others' names. And somehow, somewhere between the quick, hard fucks in Mickey's bed or during Ian's breaks at work and the random conversations they had whilst they were drunk or high or a bit of both, somewhere between all of that, the two of them grew comfortable in the presence of one another.

After Mickey's first stay in juvie when Ian managed to get him a job at the Kash and Grab, they soon became accustomed to each other's behaviour. Ian quickly realised that Mickey found it almost impossible to say anything without it sounding like a threat or an insult and that if you got up in his personal space for reasons other than to either fuck him or fight him he'd get crazy pissed. And Mickey got used to Ian asking him questions about algebra or trigonometry or whatever the fuck it was that he couldn't possibly answer and the little comments he made about their sexual exploits when nobody else was around and that cocky smirk he got when Mickey would tell him to 'fuck off'.

The whole thing panicked Mickey, more so than he'd ever care to mention or admit to. He was only supposed to have sex with the guy not pick up on his little habits and he definitely wasn't supposed to find himself liking them.

It panicked him because they were only meant to be fuck buddies, each others' booty calls not fucking friends with benefits, because even he couldn't deny the fact that they were friends, and he had never really had a proper friend, least of all one he could fuck. Hell, in the past he'd only let himself have sex with a guy once in the hope they'd understand it was only a one time thing and so they wouldn't think he was their fucking boyfriend – in his defence Ian had like a degree in how to make Mickey practically scream with pleasure – and so even though there were perks to the whole messed up arrangement i.e. the sex, it was so alien to him. The fact that they had to sneak around made him feel like they were in some sort of gay partnership and they certainly fucking weren't. Not at all.

In retrospect, Mickey kind of thought that that was probably, maybe why things had gone the way they had. Sure, he was scared as fuck about Frank opening his huge fucking mouth which would result in him getting his brains bashed in by his dad and brothers, but it was also an easy way out – and he _needed_ a way out – of a daunting situation he had gotten way too deep into.

So that was his excuse whether or not it made up for what he had said to Gallagher. He imagined it probably didn't and sometimes that sort of bothered him but he pushed those thoughts as far back in his mind as he could. It wasn't like there was anything he could do now he was back in juvie and there was no fucking way in hell he was going to send Gallagher some faggy, romantic letter to apologise or some shit. He was also pretty damn sure he wasn't going to get a visit from him anytime soon _so_ _fuck it_, he thought, _I'll serve my time, get out and pretend like I haven't had his dick up my ass, simple_.

Of course in Mickey's life, nothing remained simple for long.


	2. Chapter 2

Due to the fact that his crime was violent, Mickey had to have a psychological assessment to determine whether or not he was too much of a risk to his fellow delinquents and would need to be put into the high security block. When he was first told he could barely contain his laughter because he was a Milkovich, for fucks sake, of course he was a risk but it wasn't like he went around starting fights for absolutely no reason – that only really had happened when he was horny and Gallagher wouldn't fuck him because he was pissed at him and fighting seemed to be second best.

Contrary to what he had been told and what he thought about psychologists and therapists and whatever, Dr. Harris wasn't really all that bad.

She chuckled softly to herself once Mickey was in her office, sat on the opposite side of the cluttered desk to her.

Mickey rubbed his thumb over the side of his chapped bottom lip, wondering what the fuck she found so funny. "What?" he asked, frowning at her.

One of her hands ran through her auburn hair then removed the glasses from her pale face. There wasn't a hint of make-up on her and Mickey thought she looked almost angelic in a really weird sort of way. He didn't think he'd ever seen a woman, or even just a person, who looked so completely untouched by the horrors that life had to offer. Then again, where he lived, there wasn't a single person whose life wasn't broken or fucked up in one way or another.

When she didn't answer he cursed under his breath and slouched further down in the chair, his legs spread.

As if she was mirroring him, she leaned back in her own chair, another chuckle leaving her mouth only further pissing him off.

"What the fuck is so funny?" he snapped.

"I like your tats," she nodded her head toward his hands, "very meaningful," her voice was full of sarcasm and Mickey seriously wanted to punch that smirk off of her fucking face.

"Fuck off," he muttered, staring her down. He didn't need this fucking yuppie judging him. "Think you're better than me 'cause you have a good job or some shit? Let me guess you grew up in a fucking mansion with money coming out your ass!" He couldn't explain his anger. Maybe it was because he had been itching for a fight, verbal or physical, maybe it was because he felt the need to show her that just because she clearly had had a better life than him it didn't mean she could look down her nose at him, or maybe it was because he actually felt himself envy her in ways even he couldn't quite comprehend.

He honestly wasn't expecting her to smile at him, at least not in the way she was. It was a knowing sort of smile, like she knew him or understood what he was saying. It was unnerving.

"I knew your dad." That was it, that was all she said.

Mickey expected her to explain what the hell she meant by that, because people who knew his dad were either in jail or on their way there, not working at one as a damn psychologist.

"Well, I didn't _know_ him know him, I just dealt him drugs a few times. And to answer your earlier question, no, I don't think I'm better than you. I'm not. I'm worse than you. I may not have a criminal record, but I grew up in your neighbourhood which kind of says it all. The only thing is, I never got caught and I was never dumb enough to punch a cop in the face for no reason," she tilted her head to the side slightly and that smile she'd be wearing the whole time seemed to disappear, "but you had a reason," she said softly, more so to herself than Mickey.

A silence lingered between them and the air in the room felt somehow heavy to him, like all of the words they weren't saying were still seeping out of them and filling up the place.

For some reason Mickey couldn't look at her, at least not in the eye. He wondered if she was going to ask him questions about the whole cop thing and he knew that if she did he would shut down, tell her it's none of her fucking business, but he had a feeling she'd somehow know anyway.

"Are you always this pissed off, Milkovich?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence that Mickey had just begun to feel comfortable in.

He shrugged casually because that was easier than explaining to her that usually it was easier to be pissed off, even though sometimes it was just a front, than to think about why he wasn't.

That smile was back, unnerving him once again. "Or do you find it easier to act like everything annoys the hell out of you?"

Christ, was she a mind reader? Mickey's eyes shot up to meet hers and he just froze. It took a while for him to straighten out his expression but he knew his face had already answered her question.

"I get that, y'know? It's so much easier to keep everything fragile at arms length, including your feelings, than having to deal with it all head on. Would you say you do that?"

He shrugged again because apparently that was now his way of saying 'yes' without actually saying it.

"Does that just make you angrier?"

"I don't know," he said and he really didn't. "Isn't the point of this thing to see if I'm going to kill someone or some shit? Why the fuck aren't you asking me about that?" _Because that would make me a lot more comfortable_, he thought. He could talk all day about fighting if he had to but this, this he didn't need to discuss with anybody.

"Okay, okay, Jesus," she muttered under her breath holding up her hands. "I'm Dr. Harris, by the way," she said in what he assumed was her fake professional voice, "though I doubt you give a shit," her voice was just loud enough for Mickey to hear and he chuckled to himself.

She looked at him and winked. "So… fighting, huh? Sometimes it's just as good as sex, isn't it?" she said, completely serious.

Mickey breathed out a laugh and smirked at her. If that was how she thought she must've come from his neighbourhood.

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Do you prefer to solve things with your fists?"

"Yeah," he said, unashamedly.

"Hm," her head tilted again, "why is that?"

"Uh, well I guess my fists can do more than my words. Plus it's always good to have an excuse to beat the shit out of somebody."

They spoke like that for a while longer, Dr. Harris asking him about what he felt when he fought and how often he found himself getting taken over by his anger and for once in his life he found himself giving honest answers because to Mickey, there was no reason to lie when it came to stuff like that because, in his mind, it didn't make him look bad nor did it make him feel bad. That and he quite liked the fact that Dr. Harris promised him that he could ask her about her old criminal ways and that she'd answer him honestly if he answered her honestly.

"Okay, well in the last couple of months of high school a couple of friends and I decided that we should probably treat ourselves seeing as we were leaving soon. So, uh, well one of my friends was this huge science geek but he was a complete thug at the same time, anyway, we all hated our math teacher Pervin' Mervin or Mr. Fitzgerald so basically we bombed his classroom and left him with only one arm."

"Fuck, that was you?"

She nodded and though she tried to hide it, Mickey could tell she was pretty proud of that and she had every right to be; the story of how Pervin' Mervin got his arm blown off was like a fucking famous tale that everyone had heard yet nobody knew who had done it.

"Well, our hour is up, Milkovich," she said, putting her glasses back on and looking over the notes she scrawled whilst Mickey spoke. Never once did she actually look at the paper she was writing on, which Mickey thought was actually pretty damn freaky.

He leaned forward in his chair. "So, what's my diagnosis, doc?" he asked with a smirk, trying to twist the piece of paper she was looking at to sneak a peek.

His hand was slapped away with impressive force. "Fuck off," Dr. Harris muttered with a smirk. "Right, well, I don't think that you are an immediate threat to any of the other inmates here unless they piss you off," she looked up through her glasses and Mickey nodded in agreement. "Although you are a borderline sociopath," she muttered under her breath but she wasn't quite quiet enough.

Mickey kicked her ankle under the desk not hard enough to really hurt but not soft enough so that it didn't hurt at all.

He found himself laughing, like properly laughing, at her surprised reaction; her deep blue eyes so wide he thought they were going to pop out of her skull. All he did was smirk back and stick his tongue into the corner of his mouth.

"You know I could get you done for assault and should probably write down what you just did," Mickey scoffed at her fake seriousness. She may have been a pretty good psychologist but her acting skills fucking sucked.

"_Anyway_, as I was saying, though you don't need to be put into the high security block, I do think that you would benefit from going to the anger management class that meets- will you stop laughing and let me finish?"

As soon as the words 'anger management class' had left her mouth Mickey was in stitches again. It was such a ridiculous suggestion and he thought that if he didn't laugh about it he'd probably punch a wall and he figured that that was something Dr. Harris would definitely have to write about.

"Listen, I know you don't want to but it's only twice a week and it's a mixed class with inmates from the female wing so you'll at least have fresh images in your mind to jerk off to." Clearly she was unaware of his preferences and Mickey was pretty fucking thankful about that. "Plus if you complete it successfully, it'll shorten your sentence quite considerably."

To most people in his situation that would sound great but Mickey was actually in juvie by choice because he was safer in there if his dad ever found out about his love of dick. Then again, he figured if his dad ever did find out, Mandy would too and maybe she'd be disgusted, he thought she probably would be, but he couldn't picture her actually wanting him dead - the countless times she had threatened to kill him didn't exactly count - which meant she'd probably warn him about it and if that happened he'd just punch one of the guards to prolong his sentence, easy. But there was a chance that his dad wouldn't find out and so it didn't make sense to turn down an offer that could see him out of juvie quicker.

"Fuck it, okay," he finally said because how fucking hard could an anger management course be? All he'd have to do was maybe swear and scowl a little less and refrain from beating the shit out of anyone. He could do that. Probably.


	3. Chapter 3

**Just wanted to say thank you for all the reviews so far and also that I've never been in an anger management class or juvie so I'm just making it up as I go and hoping that it isn't too inaccurate.**

After his first week locked up, Mickey began to feel like he was stuck in time, repeating the same day over and over: wake up, shower, eat breakfast, work out, watch tv, eat lunch, work out some more, eat dinner, jerk off, go to sleep. He felt like he was in that film Mandy had forced him to watch once, Groundhog Day or some shit.

It bored him but there was something strangely secure about it all because there was actual structure to his life. He couldn't work out whether he craved the chaos of Southside or didn't miss it at all.

Although in some ways he was treated just the same; people who knew who he was scurried out of his way when he walked past and didn't dare look him in the eye. It was as though they thought he was teetering on the edge and one look would have pushed him right over it.

Sometimes, he thought maybe they were right.

And to go from having sex – and not just average sex, but mind-blowing, amazing sex – to only having your hand didn't help matters. Especially since the one person he didn't want to think about at all was all his mind focussed on when he jerked off… and worked out, and watched tv. It was like the redheaded fucker had decided to set up camp in his brain and no matter what Mickey did, he wouldn't leave.

Then again, just jerking off to images of Ian could be put down to the fact that practically every other guy in juvie looked like the result of years and years of incest.

The day of Mickey's first anger management class came quicker than he had hoped. For the past couple of days he had been in a shitty mood due to the fact that he had had a pretty vivid, explicit dream involving none other than Ian-fucking-Gallagher. It had left him wound up and not just sexually. The last thing he needed was to speak about shit he didn't care about.

A guard walked him over to the building where all the classes took place and where Dr. Harris's office was. He sort of hoped he would see her, he didn't know why.

The guard, who seemed to thoroughly enjoy pushing Mickey around a little too hard, the sadistic fuck, unlocked his cuffs, before shoving him down onto a chair just outside of a room. Mickey cursed under his breath and scowled up at him.

Shortly after, Dr. Harris came walking down the corridor and Mickey was genuinely surprised at how tall she was, her legs seemed to go on forever.

She slyly winked at him. "Thank you for bringing him over but I can take it from here," she said sweetly to the guard who was clearly checking her out.

"No problem, have a good day, Laura."

Mickey wasn't all that good at picking up on other peoples' body language, but the way they smiled at each other and the way Dr. Harris's thin hand lingered on the guard's arm as she said goodbye, yelled _we're fucking_.

She turned to face Mickey and exhaled loudly, looking almost nervous.

He smirked at her. "You two, huh?"

"Fuck off," she mumbled, shuffling uncomfortably where she stood, a slight blush spreading across her face. "Are you nervous?" she asked, obviously trying to move on from any discussion about her sex life.

Mickey scoffed. "Yeah, I'm pissing my pants."

"So… no?" she chuckled to herself as she took a seat beside him. "Well I just wanted to make sure you actually turned up and to tell you that I hope you give this a shot because as much as I like you, I never want to see you ever again."

Mickey looked down at his lap and played with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. Her kindness and sincerity made him want to punch something because it was wasted on him. Jail was always going to be a part of his life.

"This doesn't have to be your life," she almost whispered.

A week later and she could still see into his brain, she still understood how his mind was wired and how he lived because that had been how she had lived. She understood the thrill of a fight and how running from the cops could make you feel like up until then you had been a walking corpse and how it was easier to never try your best and not do so well than to fail whilst having given it your all.

Before Mickey could mutter out a 'thanks' a young guy dressed like a hippie who had been attacked by a tailor practically jumped out of the room they were sat outside of, a cheesy grin on his face.

"Ah, you must be Mickey; it's a pleasure to meet you." They guy was beaming and spoke in a way that reminded Mickey of the voice his old teachers would put on when trying to calm him down. It never worked; it just pissed him off even more. Apparently it still had the same effect.

He stood up and mouthed 'what the fuck?' at Dr. Harris as she sat trying to contain her laughter. Clearly she had forgotten to mention that the guy who ran the class was a total dick.

"Come in, come in," the guy said, ushering Mickey inside, "let's get you introduced to everyone."

Reluctantly, he walked into the room and immediately wished that he hadn't. There were about ten or eleven other inmates in there and they were sat on shitty plastic chairs that were arranged in a circle. All of them were chatting amongst themselves except for one girl who sat with her chair backwards, her arms draped over the back of it, her hands fiddling with a cigarette. It reminded him of the way Gallagher used to sit when he was working behind the counter, fiddling with a pen. Fuck. Gallagher.

There were motivational and positive thinking posters all over the walls which Mickey thought was fucking dumb but at least it would give him something to look at whilst he pretended to listen to whatever bullshit they talked about.

The guy clapped his hands in an overly camp manner that made Mickey cringe. "Listen up guys, we have a new person joining our class today so we need to make him feel welcome and respected, okay?" he spoke with his hands and as though the people sitting in from of him were fucking toddlers, not only a few years younger than him.

"Now, we haven't been introduced," he faced Mickey and smiled as he spoke, "my name's Richard but I also go by Rich and Richie, so you can just call me whatever you like, everyone else does," he explained.

"That isn't strictly true," someone said, "or the majority of people would be calling you asshole or dickhead or fuck-"

Richard held up a hand to silence them and Mickey smirked to himself. It was the girl with the cigarette that had spoken.

"That's quite enough, Kiera," he said through gritted teeth and a fake smile. "So, why don't you introduce yourself to the group and tell everyone an interesting fact about yourself?" He put a hand on Mickey's shoulder like he was his fucking friend and looked like he was about to shit himself when Mickey glared at him and shook him off.

Mickey let out a long sigh and looked out at all of the others who were looking back at him, expectant, except for that one girl, Kiera? Cara? Mickey couldn't even remember. "I'm Mickey," he mumbled, his hands firmly in his pockets.

"Hi Mickey," the whole group said simultaneously like they all shared a mouth.

"And what's your fact?" Richard asked.

Mickey rolled his eyes and clenched the fists that were in his pockets. "Well it's a fucking fact that my name is Mickey."

The room fell silent for a moment before someone loudly snorted. It came from that girl Kiera or Cara, whatever.

The two of them shared a glance for a moment before her attention returned to the cigarette in her hand that she so obviously wanted to smoke.

The rest of the group stated their names and what they considered to be interesting facts – he soon realised that they used the term 'interesting' pretty loosely after listening to what the first couple of people said.

Mickey zoned out pretty quickly, wondering what they might be serving for dinner that night, hoping to God it wasn't that shitty meatloaf they had had a few days back that had made him gag.

However when it came to Kiera's turn to talk, he actually listened because she was different to the others; kind of weird, but in a good way. "Well, I'm Kiera and my interesting fact, which will probably be the most interesting fact you'll hear during this welcoming process, is that I can successfully roll twenty joints in just over a minute," she spoke so casually, almost as though she wasn't aware that she had practically insulted everyone else there. Mickey felt certain she was.

Richard ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more which Mickey thought was quite a talent and that ended the "getting to know you" part of the class.

After that, because Mickey had the best luck ever, they moved on to their monthly group therapy session which consisted of everyone moaning about how shit their lives were and what they'd do if they went back in time to moments in their life when they were extra angry now that they had learned some coping mechanisms.

Mickey's temper was wearing thin. He had been sat on his ass for almost an hour listening to these whiney fucking bitches and he wanted out. He needed out before he lost it and threw his chair at the next person who opened their mouth.

For almost the entire time the girl Kiera had been sat on the windowpane, one leg dangling out, and smoking cigarette after cigarette. And every time Richard would go over to her she'd give him a serious look and nod her head toward one particularly slutty looking blonde and that shut him up.

A couple of times he could feel her eyes lingering on him and every time he turned to stare at her back one side her mouth would form a little smirk before she quickly turned back around, the cool wind blowing through her jet black hair.

As soon as the clock struck five Mickey was up, out and getting his cuffs put back on before Richard even said he could go.

He didn't give a shit, this wasn't school, and fuck, even if it was he would have left in the exact same way.

When he got back he didn't watch tv or work out, he went straight to his cell because the overwhelming urge to punch something was slowly taking over and, because his knuckles still ached from went he had punched the tiled wall in the showers two days ago, he took it out on his pillow. And though he tried to banish the thoughts before they had even made themselves present, he found himself thinking that Gallagher could probably be able to ease the tension in his shoulders with just one look.

Clearly anger management class hadn't had the effect on him it was supposed to.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the fact that two days had passed, Mickey couldn't quite believe that it was time for his next anger management class. He had chilled out a little since the last one which was probably down to the fact that he didn't have any more sex dreams about Ian and had joined in when a fight over fuck all had broken out. All he had to show for it was a slight purple bruise across his right cheekbone. The others weren't so fortunate.

Autumn had definitely arrived now and Mickey slightly, well, more than slightly, regretted tying the top half of his jumpsuit around his hips because Christ was it cold on his walk over.

Once uncuffed, he sauntered into the room, only this time there were a load of tables set up with big A3 pieces of paper, paint, pencils and other arts and craft shit spread across them and Mickey felt a wave of relief wash over him because this probably meant that they weren't going to have to talk, or, in his case, listen to the rest of them talk.

Art he could handle.

"Hey Mickey," Richard said with a broad smile, "why don't you find yourself a seat."

Mickey, not so subtlely, looked him up and down a few times. _What is this dick wearing?_ he thought to himself and he had a point. Richard was wearing grey suit trousers, espadrilles, a tie dye t-shirt and a black blazer_. _Now Mickey certainly wasn't into fashion and faggy shit like that, but even he knew that that was a fucking terrible outfit.

He walked over to the empty side of the room and sat down, folding his arms on the table then resting his chin on them.

All of the art stuff reminded him of one of the rare times that Ian had stayed the night. His dad and brothers were away on "buisness" and Mandy was staying at her friends for a few days so they had had the house to themselves. It's fair to say that they had a shit ton of sex but they also just hung out.

_Ian was in the shower taking fucking forever and Mickey began to grow bored. He shoved his hands under his bed and pulled out his sketchbook which he had quite cleverly put inside a book about the second world war that he had stolen because he knew his brothers would never look through that, and if they ever found his sketchbook they'd probably beat the shit out of him._

_He picked up a random pencil from the floor and twiddled it between his fingers for a couple of seconds like he always did before he drew. Quickly, he flicked through the covered pages and found a clear one. He crossed his legs and put a pillow atop them and rested his sketchbook there for a moment before he leaned forward slightly and began to draw._

_Drawing was probably the only hobby Mickey had that didn't involve some form of drug and he kind of liked it. Liked the fact that he could draw anything, that between him and the paper anything was possible._

_"Are you drawing?" Ian's voice was full of confusion and who could really blame him?_

_Mickey jumped more than he could ever remember doing so in the past. He didn't think he ever really had unless a gunshot was involved._

_Ian was stood at the foot of the bed, his torso dripping wet, in nothing but his boxers and Mickey's eyes were glued to him before he actually realised what Gallagher had said._

_"Fuck off," he mumbled, covering the sketchbook with the pillow._

_"Can I see?" Mickey wantd to punch the wide smile off of Ian's face because now that Ian wanted to see it, Mickey knew that he'd somehow get round to seeing it because he was a persistent fucker._

_"Fuck. Off."_

_Without warning Ian pounced on him, that same smile still plastered across his face, forcing Mickey onto his front with Ian flat against him as one of his hands found the book and the other violently tickled Mickey's armpit. Immediately Mickey began to laugh whilst still trying to hold his composure which resulted in him making the weirdest of noises, much to Ian's amusement._

_"Shit, stop stop stop," Mickey yelled out through muffled laughter, squirming and wriggling about like he had no control over his limbs, "Jesus Christ just take it, take it!" he surrendered, because this guy could take multiple punches to the face, but it was tickling that really did him in._

_"Ah ha!" Ian swiped the book from beneath him but didn't get up off of him. He opened it against Mickey's shoulder blades whilst Mickey turned his face to the side and rested it on his crossed arms._

_They stayed like that for a few minutes, Mickey growing more and more sleepy as Ian slowly took in everything that was drawn from grafiti art to pictures of Mandy._

_Mickey knew he had gotten to it when he heard Gallagher's breath catch in his throat and he was so thankful that he wasn't facing him because he could just picture Ian's stupid face smiling like an idiot._

_He felt Ian slightly lift off of him and place the book on the floor before he layed down beside him so close that their noses nearly touched._

_"You drew me," Ian mumbled, closing his eyes._

_"So? I draw anything," Mickey snapped._

_"Yeah..." Ian couldn't have sounded less convinced. "You're really talented, Mickey," he whispered softly and that was probably one of the best thing Mickey had ever heard. He hated that._

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard a word of what Richard had said nor had he noticed Kiera walking over to him and it was only when he stopped stupidly daydreaming that he saw her across the table from him with her own chin rested on her crossed arms and her face dangerously close to his.

He jerked upright. "What he fuck?" he was annoyed and confused and slightly freaked out.

Kiera remained how she was but kept her eyes on his. "We're supposed to draw things that represent us because apparently, and I quote, "the more you know about yourself, the better you'll get at understanding yourself and art is a great way to express one's self"." She sat up and Mickey couldn't help but give her a funny look due to the way she spoke like they were fucking best friends or some shit. It was strange. Everything with this girl was strange.

She suddenly stood up. "Care for some nicotine?" she asked, walking to the window beside them.

Mickey had been asked if he wanted to smoke thousands of times before but never in such an odd way. He shrugged and walked over to her because yes, he could do with some nicotine.

His actions copied hers: opening his side of the window then sitting on the windowpane, one leg dangling out.

Kiera put two cigarettes in her mouth and lit them before handing him one. It was only then that Mickey saw that her eyes were two different colours: one blue and the other a hazel sort of colour.

Before he could stop himself he spoke. "Your eyes are fucking weird." It came out like an insult but he wasn't quite if he had meant it to.

"Thank you," she said without even a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

They sat like that, smoking in silence, for a while before Mickey's curiosity got the better of him. "What's your deal?" he asked, motioning to her with his third cigarette in hand. "I mean, why don't Richard get pissed about you sitting here smoking?"

Her eyes met his for a few seconds before her gaze went back to her swaying foot. "A month ago when I used to have one-on-one sessions with him, I turned up a little early but the door was unlocked so I walked in anyways and, you know the blonde skank who looks like she works street corners?" Mickey nodded and even though she didn't look up at him, she somehow knew so continued. "Well I saw her on her knees with his manlihood down her throat. So now I'm blackmailing him into letting me sit around doing nothing whilst reporting that I'm making wonderful progress." She spoke in that same casual way that Mickey thought was like the only way she knew how.

He looked over at said blonde skank and saw Richard knelt down beside her looking smug as fuck.

"I got you in on it, too," she said simply.

Mickey turned back to face her, one eyebrow raised and her face went from serious, slightly anxious, to smiling in a heartbeat. He wanted ask her why she would even do that when she didn't know a fucking thing about him. For all she knew he could've been just as annoying as the rest of them. He wanted to tell her to stop being so weird, to fuck off, but he just couldn't.

Perhaps it was because there was something so familiar about the situation. Perhaps it was because the way Kiera's eyes wondered over him like she was trying to remember every single detail reminded him of Gallagher. When he thought about it, she reminded him of Gallagher quite a bit: the way she held her cigarette between her fingers so delicately like it was about to snap any second, the way she didn't blow, but breathed out the smoke as if it was clean air from her lungs.

Mickey hated it. Hated it because a piece of Ian was there but it wasn't quite whole; a jigsaw missing half it's pieces. He could look but he couldn't reach out and touch. It made him crave the feeling of Ian's hands on hips, on his back, in his hair more than he craved the cigarette he held. It made him picture Gallagher with that stupid smile on his face. It made him_ feel. _And worst of all, he didn't want to stop, he didn't want to leave when it was time to go because Kiera was the closest thing to Ian he could get and as much as he didn't want to think about it, he knew he wanted to be close to him. By close, though, he meant on all fours with his dick up his ass, not cuddling or some shit. Now way.


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologise in advance for how short this is and if it's awful; I had serious writer's block.**

It was two days later when Mickey was lounging about watching tv, but more like staring blankly at the screen, when he was told that he had a visitor. His mind started racing: at first he thought perhaps it was Gallagher there to tell him that he was a total dick, then he thought it might be his dad or one of his brothers there to tell him that they had found out he was a fag and he was now a dead man walking. Either way he wasn't exactly sprinting to the visitors' room.

The one person he didn't expect to see was Mandy, especially since her excuse last time for not visiting him was because of how "the dyke guards grope you like horny teenagers", but there she was arms crossed tightly pushing up her tits so that they almost spilled over her tight grey t-shirt.

Mickey rolled his eyes at the sight of her then sat down and picked up the phone. "Hey fucktwat," he said casually, smirking as she frowned slightly.

"Assface," she retorted, "you get gang-banged in the showers yet?"

Mickey snorted. "Bitch, I could ask you the same question."

She laughed sarcastically whilst giving him the finger.

He rubbed the side of his bottom lip with his thumb. "The fuck are you doing here, anyway?" he asked because even though Mandy was the kindest - if kind was even the right word - of the Milkovich children and her and Mickey had always been somewhat close, that still didn't explain why she was there.

She shrugged and relaxed back in her chair. "Had some time before I'm seeing my friends, thought I'd see how you were holdin' up," she looked down at her lap for a moment, "you doin' okay?" she leaned forward a little her blue eyes staring into his. The movement revealed her tits even more.

Mickey grimaced. "Jesus Christ, why do you even bother wearing shirts?" he asked sarcastically. He had long given up trying to persuade her to wear more clothes but it didn't mean he wanted an eyeful of his own sister's chest. Or any other girls' for that matter. "And I been crying myself to sleep every night, the fuck do you think? I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes and huffed dramatically. "Such an asshole," she muttered quietly to herself, obviously forgetting about the phone in her hand.

Mickey snorted again. "You do know I can hear you, right?" Her eyes widened slightly. "Fucking dumbass," he laughed out.

She giggled a little and smiled at him. "So has Ian visited?"

Internally, Mickey was freaking the fuck out. Why the hell was she asking that?_ Fuck_, he thought, _she fucking knows._ He kept his face expressionless, trying not give anything away - he didn't know what was left to give away if she knew, but still.

"No, why would he?" there was a slight edge to his voice and he hoped Mandy didn't notice.

Casually, she fiddled with a bit of her hair. "Well he's like your friend, right?" she didn't look at him as she spoke, too busy checking out the guy who had just sat down beside her.

"Not really, we just work together." _Drop the fucking subject._

Mandy looked back at him. "Oh okay, whatever. Well, I gotta go," she zipped up her black leather jacket, "I'll come by next week or something, 'kay?"

"Whatever, see ya," Mickey grumbled, biting his thumb nail.

She gave him a wicked smile. "Try not to drop the soap."

Before he could tell her to fuck off she put the phone down, laughing at his annoyance.

That night he slept better than he thought he'd ever done in the past, if you don't count the times he'd slept beside Gallagher, and Mickey certainly didn't. He didn't understand why seeing his sister had affected him so much but he was certainly thankful for her short, random visit, though he'd never tell her that, of course. There were a lot of things he'd never tell her.


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks had passed since Mandy's visit and the skies were darkening earlier; the air gaining a sharp edge to it. Mickey's mood seemed to contrast the changing weather. It wasn't that he was cheerful or glowing with joy but he wasn't so downbeat, he frowned a little less. He knew the cause but that doesn't mean it made sense to him.

Kiera. It was Kiera and how they sat together in that same way, smoking the same brand cigarettes in that same comfortable silence. Those were the times Mickey began to look forward to. He looked forward to seeing that girl with the weird eyes and even weirder personality; he looked forward to sitting there not saying a thing, without being expected to; he looked forward to hearing the random statements she would make about weed or The Lord Of The Rings because they were her favourite things; he looked forward to her leaning across and cupping his cheek in that way she did for reasons only Kiera could know. Admittedly, the first time she had done it, Mickey freaked the hell out because for a moment he thought she was going to fucking kiss him or some shit, but he grew used to it. It didn't make sense to him. It didn't make sense that he was tolerating, accepting, sort of liking this random girl he barely knew whilst in his fucking anger management class. But what he found even stranger was that she tolerated him just the same; not grimacing at or moaning about the way he spat on the ground outside or the way he chewed his thumbs' nails. It didn't make sense to him, yet at the same he didn't question it.

Something was different, he could tell straight away. Kiera was sat completely still which wasn't right because the girl was always moving at least one part of her petite body; drumming her fingers on her svelte thigh or swaying her feet.

Mickey didn't know what he was supposed to do. Should he ask if she was okay? No. He wasn't sure if he cared and he didn't want to hear anymore sob stories. In the end he just sat there and smoked his cigarette. Though he was used to it, the silence was still odd to him. Mickey hated it for the same reasons Kiera loved it: it spoke the truth, screamed honesty.

He could feel her staring at him but she often did, _so that's normal_, he thought. But when he she didn't look away after a few more seconds he turned to look at her, frowning slightly. "What?"

"Would you like to converse with me?" she asked, breathing out smoke.

"Uh, whatever," Mickey replied, slightly confused.

"Why are you here?"

"I punched a cop in the face," he looked down at his lap, "you?" he asked, because he figured she'd want him to.

"I put a man in hospital. He was so afraid of me that he told the judge that it was self defence on my part so I only got 18 months, I'm only going to serve 10 of those," she explained.

Mickey's eyes were wide and a smirk grew in the corner of his mouth. He'd never of guessed that she was in juvie for a violent crime, figured it'd be something to do with drugs, but then again she was in an anger management class. That was also something Mickey didn't quite get. Kiera was so chilled out like she was perpetually high, he couldn't imagine her getting angry and he definitely couldn't imagine her beating the shit out of someone so badly that they wound up in hospital. He was impressed.

"Fuck. You're so small," he said, before realising how random that sounded, "I mean it's just impressive that you managed to do that, that's all," he mumbled.

Kiera dropped her cigarette butt then leaned across and stroked his cheek. "I hate it here," she whispered, closing her eyes, keeping her hand on his cheek. "I hate these people." She sat back then, leaving Mickey a little lost for words, more so than usual.

"Well they are a bunch of fuckin' assholes, so y'know..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

Kiera looked over to the group. "The guys get so excited about seeing those girls, I almost feel sorry for them for being surrounded by males for most of the week, especially as, from what I've seen, most of them look like their parents are also their siblings," she faced him again, "that must be awful for you."

Mickey choked on the smoke he had just inhaled. What the fuck did she mean by that? Did that mean... fuck did she know? He wanted to run out, he wanted to punch her, he wanted to punch himself.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he snapped, unable to look at her.

"That it must be awful that you're surrounded by ugly guys and then you come here and see girls that do nothing for you," she stated simply. It wasn't simple. Not to Mickey.

He cursed under his breath and leaned closer to her whilst looking around to make sure that nobody was close enough to hear them. "I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about, but you need to keep your damn mouth shut," he snapped in a hushed tone.

"You aren't obvious, Elton, if that's why you're panicking," she didn't react even slightly to Mickey's threatening glare.

Mickey scoffed. "No? Then how the fuck do you know?"

"It's my sixth sense. It came to me when I was twelve."

Mickey sat back, breathing hard, craving another cigarette and like a gallon of vodka. He fiddled with the sleeve of his jumpsuit. _Fuck_, he thought,_ fucking fuck!_

"I'm sorry that I know you're gay," she whispered, "but you shouldn't be. I have nobody to tell and even if I did, I wouldn't betray you because you're a good person and you don't deserve to be betrayed."

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. Laughed because this was so fucking ridiculous and because he didn't know what else to do. He laughed so he didn't hit her. He laughed because he didn't really want to hit her and that made him want to hit her even more. He laughed until she cupped his cheek and stopped him.

"Have you ever watched The Lord Of The Rings whilst baked?"

Mickey smirked. "The fuck?"

"It's the greatest thing I have ever done," her eyes were wide in the way they always got when she spoke about weed or that damn film.

Shaking his head, he looked at her.

"Oh. You really haven't lived, have you?" She leaned back again and looked out the window. "Though I suspect you're too busy getting your ass fucked and your cock sucked," she said casually, smirking to herself.

Mickey shoved her shoulder, but it wasn't because he wanted to hurt her, then rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb. "Fuck off and gimme a cigarette, I fucking need it."

Two cigarettes were being lit in her mouth before he had even finished talking.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for all the reviews so far :) This is another short one but I felt like it was important to get Ian's POV across.**

Lip was back and, to Ian, that was all that should have mattered. The one constant in his life that was full of people leaving then turning up and leaving again, was back. His brother, but more importantly, his best friend, was back. And though they had seen each other most days, it wasn't the same. It was a comfort to fall asleep at night knowing that Lip wasn't far. They held each others' secrets like they were frail; having the others' trust was more valuable to them than anything money could ever buy.

When he had finished work Ian rushed home, his shoulders hunched and his hands buried deep in his coat pockets in a desperate attempt to stay warm as he walked.

There was music pounding out from the house and, seeing as it was late, he knew everyone would be too drunk and high to notice him coming through the back door and that was just what he wanted. Strange as it was for Ian to pass up an opportunity to get wasted, he couldn't bring himself to see his family's smiling faces and pretend like he was just as carefree. He should have been but it'd been a long time since Ian had been carefree. He could blame it on Monica coming back and turning their lives upside down; he could blame it on Lip leaving; he could blame it on Mandy's dad getting her pregnant then shoving a gun in his face; he could blame it on a lot of things but it wouldn't have been the real reason.

Collapsing down onto his bed fully clothed, Ian closed his eyes and willed his mind to stop thinking about Mickey, mentally begged his brain to focus on anything but Mickey. Especially since he knew he'd be the furthest thing from the guy's mind. He was no doubt doing his best straight person impression which, evidently, he had down to a science. It was pathetic how much he thought about him, like he was some lovesick teenager. Which is exactly what he was, much to his annoyance.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open dragged Ian from his thoughts and he opened his eyes.

"What are you doing up here, man?" It was Lip.

"Nothing, I just have a headache," he lied though he didn't know why because he knew his brother would see right through it.

Lip sat down by Ian's feet. "Right. So what are you doing up here, you shitty liar?" he asked, his smile too drunkenly contagious for Ian not to mirror it.

"Just don't feel like partying," he mumbled, feeling a pang of guilt because he knew everyone was celebrating Lip's return.

"Yeah I got that by you storming up the stairs," he laughed out. "Why not, though?" He lit up a cigarette.

Ian considered lying again because apparently he wanted to practise the art of futility.

He sighed and sat up shifting so he was beside Lip. "Mickey's back in juvie and it's my fault," he looked up into his brother's confused face then continued, "Frank caught us and Mickey freaked the hell out because he thought Frank would tell someone and his dad would find out then kill him," he sighed, taking a breath, "so he went to try and find Frank so he could kill him but he couldn't find him so he came back to the store and he said that I basically meant nothing, was just a "warm mouth" then he left and punched a cop instead."

Again, he looked up at Lip's face, only this time it was blank, completely expressionless and Ian wondered what he must be thinking because he had just unloaded a lot of information in a matter of seconds.

"Holy shit," Lip finally sighed out, rubbing the back of his neck then taking a drag of his cigarette. "You okay, man?" his eyes were full of concern.

Ian didn't know how to answer that. Was he okay? He was kind of sad and pissed off but he wasn't crying himself to sleep at night or anything. He hated Mickey and missed him just as much but it wasn't like he couldn't deal with it. Sort of.

"I'm fine," he said, lying and telling the truth at the same time.

Lip looked unsure, squinting his eyes a little. "Yeah?"

"He doesn't give a shit, he's done with me so I guess I'm done with him, whatever," he shrugged, faking nonchalance.

"Right..." Lip was completely unconvinced and Ian couldn't blame him. Saying he was done with Mickey was a blatant lie.

Lip was back and that's all that should have mattered, but it wasn't. All that mattered was that Mickey wasn't.


	8. Chapter 8

**Just a quick note: towards the end I switch to Kiera's POV.**

Mandy visited Mickey a month later because apparently "so much shit" had been going on with her skanky friends that she hadn't had the time.

"You think I give a fuck?" Mickey asked once Mandy had finished explaining her excuse.

She rolled her eyes then took off her black beanie. "So... your asshole still intact?" she asked, smirking, because apparently she still found the whole 'drop the soap in the showers get you ass fucked' thing hilarious.

"Fuck off, I'm surprised you even know that word means," he retorted, relaxing back in his seat.

She stuck her gloved middle finger up at him. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am," she mumbled like a little kid.

Mickey couldn't help but laugh at the site of his sister pouting. Honestly, he had missed her. Especially over Christmas because it was their own little tradition that every Christmas morning they got up ridiculously early before anyone else and exchanged stupid gifts like stuffed animals and shot glasses that they didn't even bother wrapping. It was fucking dumb and corny but Mickey kind of loved it secretly, though he pretended that it annoyed him.

"Well the card you sent me was fuckin' stupid as shit," he said with a smirk.

Mandy instantly perked up. "You got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Thought you'd like it, it had penguins on."

Mickey frowned at her in confusion. "So?"

"Well, duh! Penguins are your favourite animal, assface."

Mickey snorted. "Yeah, when I was like fuckin' ten years old."

When she began to fiddle with a bit of her hair, he noticed how the bright coloured streaks were gone and it was a little shorter. Mickey thought it was weird how someone's hair could completely change how they looked. Then again, Ian's haircut had had the same effect, only difference being Mandy didn't now look too fuckable for her own good.

"You hair's different," he commented for no real reason.

Mandy looked down at her lap. "Yeah."

"At least it looks fuckin' normal now."

She smiled to herself and Mickey knew it was because she understood that that was actually a compliment.

They sat there for a bit, neither of them saying anything because neither of them were very good at wording things and weren't sure what they were supposed to be talking about.

"So, uh, you made any friends?" Mandy asked.

A snort left Mickey before he could stop, before he could realise that yes, he had actually made a friend. In a way. "Sorta," he muttered.

Mandy's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"I have to go to this fucking anger management class and there's this girl, Kiera. She's alright." _She's actually pretty cool_, he thought.

She laughed hard. "I don't know what's more shocking: the fact that you have a friend or that you met her in an anger management class," she said through laughter.

"Fuck off," he said through gritted teeth, though her reaction was justified.

"What's she like?"

"I dunno, she's just some girl." Mickey thought he didn't really have the words in his vocabulary to describe Kiera so he wasn't even going to try.

That was how the rest of Mandy's visit went: she asked questions and Mickey muttered out half assed answers until he couldn't stop himself from asking any longer.

"Ian still treating you right?" he asked, trying his best to make it sound casual but hoping she'd say more than just 'yes'. "Not giving you any shit?" Because as far as he knew Mandy and Ian were still pretending to date. It angered Mickey more than he'd like it to.

"Oh yeah, he's fine," she said casually.

So, what? He was treating her fine or he himself was fine? Mickey wanted to ask but that wasn't what he did; he didn't ask how people were because he wasn't supposed to care about the answer. He wanted to throttle Ian for simply existing and making him into the kind of fucking idiot who might possibly give a shit.

Mandy left soon after and Mickey went straight to his anger management class, in the mood to get into a fight. Kiera was the first person he saw and she must have sensed something was up because she literally ran to him from across the room, grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him to the back of the room in the corner by the radiator that they sat by now that it was too cold to be hanging out of a window.

"The fuck, Kiera, you trying to break my damn arm?" he asked, rubbing at his shoulder that he genuinely thought might have been pulled from it's socket.

Kiera sat down, back against the radiator and Mickey sat beside her. "You looked like you were going to hit somebody," she whispered, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, so what if I fucking was?" he asked through gritted teeth, his fists clenched.

"You would be kicked out of the class and I wouldn't get to experience your charming ways on a weekly basis," her voice was so soft and it confused Mickey because he knew she was being sarcastic yet it sounded like she genuinely meant it.

When he didn't reply, Kiera got up and knelt between his spread legs cupping his cheek. It was the first time Mickey had seen her looking the way she did: her impossibly black hair scraped back loosely into a messy bun. Christ, she was beautiful.

"Who visited you? Was it your _friend_ Ian?"

Mickey had regretted telling Kiera about Ian - she had asked about any friends in his neighborhood so he mentioned Ian, how they worked in the same store and how he was dating his sister, that was all, but she knew, of course she knew - as soon as she had asked if he was also gay. The reasoning behind why Mickey had answered honestly was beyond him.

He sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck. "My sister," he finally said at the same time she let go of him.

"Oh. Well it must be something Ian related because you have that face-"

"What fucking face?" he interrupted, frowning.

A smirk spread across her own. "Whenever I ask you questions about him or you begrudgingly talk about him you get this face. I don't know why you won't just admit that he was your boyfriend because you know I know and-"

"He was not my fucking boyfriend," he said slowly, looking her right in the eye as if that would make it get through to her. "He wasn't anything, we just fucked, end of."

"Why do you even bother lying to me? Juts get it over with and tell me," she said with a sweet smile like that would be all it'd take.

_Dumbass_, Mickey thought, but then she threatened to tell Richard that he wasn't in on their agreement anymore because she just loved blackmail. So he gave in: told her about how he and Ian were casually fucking, then about Kash and the shooting, then about getting out of juvie the first time and Ian getting him a job, and finally he told her about Frank and how he had no other choice, he had to fucking do something. He told her all of that and everything inbetween because his mouth was working faster than his brain.

"Oh," she sighed out. "And you're still claiming that he wasn't your boyfriend?"

Mickey gave her a threatening look and his jaw clenched as if it had a mind of it's own. No, Ian wasn't his fucking boyfriend and Mickey was never his. They were two people who had sex and occasionally hung out. That didn't make them a couple. Did it? _No_, Mickey thought, _no it fucking didn't... Please mean it didn't_.

Sensing that his sudden tense body movements were his answer, Kiera sat back down beside him and sighed like she was exhausted and confused which was weird - not just Kiera weird - because she always seemed to have all the answers to questions that weren't even asked.

Observing was her favourite thing to do and it allowed her to learn things you could never learn at school. She had wisdom that a seventeen year old shouldn't have possessed. She was empathetic and sympathetic despite growing up in a selfish household that taught her the differences between good people who did bad things and bad people who did good things for their own narcissistic reasons.

That was how she knew that Mickey wasn't really a mean person that didn't care about people. Equally, that was how she knew that Mickey hated himself more than anybody else ever could, even his homophobic father. That was how she knew that he didn't hate himself because he was gay but because that fact alone made him vulnerable; he hated himself because he had found someone who also knew all of this, knew too much about him, and still wanted to be around him, still thought that they shouldn't feel ashamed; he hated himself because he liked someone and that meant that what happened to his heart, that was already broken beyond repair, was no longer in his hands.

For once, Kiera didn't know what to say to make Mickey feel at least slightly better about the situation. Over the past few months she had found out that cheering Mickey up - if that was really the right term - was something she was good at. That was different now. Now that words had failed her.

She took a hold of one of his clenched fists with both hands and held it softly and thought and thought, until that was all she figured she could do, yet her mind remained empty. How could she think about anything when she was sat beside the saddest person she had ever met?


	9. Chapter 9

For days and days all Mickey could think about was what he had said to Kiera and how she just held onto his hand like if she let go he would lose it. He thought about Kiera's face when they had parted ways, each going to their own block of cells; she had always looked so hopeful and Mickey thought that that was fucking stupid because how could someone look like that? Never in his life had he met someone who had looked hopeful because nobody he knew was; they weren't clever, but they sure as hell weren't dumb enough to hope. That look wasn't there anymore. It wasn't there the next two times they had met when they had sunk back into that silence, only now, it wasn't comfortable and Mickey hated it completely. There were things going on around them, people talking, moving about, but all he could see was a stranger's face where Kiera's once was and all he could hear were the words that she couldn't speak.

Every night before he clambered into bed, he'd pace his cell, back and forth, like the constant movement was a reminder that life was still there, he was still there, even if Kiera had drifted off, out of reach. He paced because it helped him think and Mickey needed to think, he needed to find a way to get Kiera back because, and he both loved and hated her for this, she was keeping him grounded, keeping him from lashing out and prolonging his sentence. She was simply keeping him. Thinking about anything other than sex, alcohol and fucking shit up had never been a talent of Mickey's and before long he had given up because his brain hurt from all the ideas he couldn't think of.

The days between their anger management class seemed to mould into one long, ridiculous day. He felt like how he did during his first week at juvie; same shit, different day. But when it came to Monday and his first class of the week he was filled with a sense of determination that felt similar to the feeling he'd get when he really wanted to inflict damage on some guy's face. However this time, he was determnined to do good or something close to that - very anti Milkovich.

Before Mickey had even fully entered the room he was met by Richard. "Not so fast, we have a new person joining today so we have to do our introductions, make them feel welcome, then you and Kiera can go off and..." he pointed vaguely to the back of the room.

Mickey wanted to protest, tell him he couldn't care less about welcoming another psychotic fuck - the last two people that had joined were literally insane, one of them even knew how to make a bomb - but when he looked he could see that Kiera was already sat on one of the chairs arranged in a cirlce and so he walked over and sat in the one beside her.

She offered him a forced, fake smile and Mickey would have prefered if she didn't even bother.

As he had done the previous times, Mickey completely spaced out as the others introduced themselves and it took Kiera prodding him in the ribs with her finger to bring him back down to Earth.

"Uh, I'm Mickey," he mumbled out, then shot Richard a look which told him to just move the fuck on, and he did.

Kiera stated her name and this time around her fact - she always changed it - was that she once shot her sister in the ass by accident. People sniggered and the new guy gave her a quizzical look, obviously wondering if that was a lie or not. Mickey knew it wasn't. He didn't think she actually could lie.

Once the whole welcoming process had finished, Mickey and Kiera went back to their spot by the radiator because it was still too damn cold to sit at their original spot.

Mickey fiddled with one of his sleeves anxiously, he knew what he wanted to say, it was simple, but somewhere between his mind and his mouth, the words seemed to get lost.

"Look, uh, you know I'm not good with words and shit right, but what the fuck is goin' on with you?" he asked because sure, some people could have worded it in a more delicate, eloquent manner, but Mickey was Mickey; he didn't do either of those things and didn't see the point in beating around the bush.

She looked startled like Mickey hadn't just asked her a question but revealed that he knew one of her deepest secrets. He hoped he hadn't pulled the same face when she had outed him. He really, really did.

"You won't want to hear it," she said, in that same casual manner, looking down at her crossed legs.

Mickey had to fight the urge to scoff because there had been so many times when he hadn't wanted to hear what Kiera had had to say like when she told him she knew guys who would get hard just by looking at him and why the first Lord Of The Rings films will always be the best. But she had never warned him before and that was why Mickey began to feel anxious again because he really couldn't think of anything she might say that warranted a warning.

"I'm sad," she said. "I'm sad because you are and you don't even know it. I'm sad because I can't make you not regret things that you shouldn't regret doing. I know you hate that someone has come into your life and made you feel what it is to be truly alive, to be honestly liked and I know that that isn't something you're used to and that scares you and you hate that. I'm sad because you hate yourself for what you said to Ian and you can see no way to make it better. I'm sad because you can't accept things and I know that if you did, you would feel a little happier." Kiera had looked him in the eyes the whole time she spoke and even though he wanted to, needed to even, even though his brain was screaming at him to do it, Mickey couldn't look away, he just couldn't; like he was in some trance.

What was he supposed to say that? One part of him thought he should tell her to go fuck herself, that she didn't know him or anything about his life, but that would've been an unnecessary lie because they both knew it wasn't true. Another part of him thought he should ask her what the fuck she'd have him do if she was so fucking smart. And then this other part of him, the part that Ian often coaxed out, thought to ask her why the hell she cared, why was what he thought or did or felt any of her concern and most importantly, why was that making her sad. In the end he didn't go with any of them.


	10. Chapter 10

Moping; that's what Lip called it anyway. Ian simply ignored his brother because he wasn't moping, or so he told himself.

"Look, failing your trig and algebra classes isn't the end of the world, Ian," Lip said as they sat on Ian's bed passing a joint between them. "You wanted to go to West Point for the wrong reason, anyway."

Ian scoffed. "Oh yeah," he turned to face his brother, "and what was that?" he asked, faking an interested tone. Sometimes he really hated Lip's intelligence and not just because he was book smart but because he seemed to just get things. That fact alone made Ian question why Lip had stuck by Karen through all the shit she put him through, but he thought feelings probably had a lot to do with that; feelings seemed to make a lot of things far more messy and complicated than they needed to be.

"You thought that joining the fucking army was the only way you could get out of this place and that's just stupid-"

"Thanks," Ian muttered, interrupting.

"Jesus Ian, do you really wanna get out of here so badly that you'd rather die in some foreign fucking desert? Because that doesn't make sense and yeah, that is stupid because it isn't even about fighting for your country or any of that patriotic bullshit to you and you know it," he took a short drag and blew out smoke rings. "You wanted to join the army because some pretentious officer came into your class and told you that that was the only way you would ever get out of here and that isn't true because you could do a hell of a lot of things to get out of here, man, and that _is_ the truth."

Weed made Lip ramble, made him chatty, but it also made him honest and Ian knew that and deep down he had known everything Lip had just said all along. It wasn't about fighting for a country that thought he was "one of God's mistakes" - it had been so long since he had heard those words but they stuck in his mind - it was about getting out the only way he thought he could. Maybe Lip was right, maybe he could get out some other way and not get his ass shot dead in the process. Ian hoped so.

A few days later Mandy phoned him up telling him to come round because she never asked - a trait all the Milkovichs had - and so Ian did because it was the weekend and he had a day off work and no plans.

Mandy was playing on the X-Box when he knocked and she opened it quickly, didn't even say hi, then went back to her game. All she had on was her underwear and a too tight t-shirt because it was Spring now and Mandy didn't need much of an excuse to wear as little clothing as possible without catching hypothermia.

Ian sat down on the couch beside her and she instinctively put her little feet onto his lap. He looked at her for a while, expecting her to talk, to gossip about her friends, but all she did was carry on shooting animated people.

"Mandy? You okay?" he asked, putting a hand on one of her ankles, finally getting her attention as she paused the game.

"Don't hate me, alright?" she turned to face him and she couldn't have been comfortable in her current position but she didn't move.

Ian frowned a little. "Alright."

"I have to dump you."

A smile spread across Ian's face. "Yeah? Have you met someone?" he asked, genuinely interested.

Mandy looked confused like she had expected him to shout at her, get mad. "Uh, yeah... you don't hate me?" she gave him her best puppy dog eyes which, quite surprisngly to Ian, looked exactly like Mickey's - not that he'd seen that look all that often.

Ian laughed a little. "Why would I hate you?"

"Well, because I was like your cover or whatever. I don't want you gettin' shit just 'cause you like dick."

Another laugh left him. "Yeah well, after "dating" you, I don't think anyone is going to guess that I'm gay," he said reassuringly. "So who is he? Is it still Lip?"

Mandy shook her head then proceeded to tell him all about her new boyfriend: his name was Louis, he was really tall, taller than Ian, he was two years older, worked on some construction site and was "like crazy hot". She said how they hadn't even had sex on the first date and that he actually liked to hang out with her.

Ian was pleased, mainly because Mandy had found someone who didn't sound like the usual type of dickhead she went for, but also because, even though he wasn't planning on properly coming out anytime soon, pretending to have a girlfriend felt like he was lying to himself; he wasn't ashamed of being gay but pretending to be straight and staying in the closet were two different things and Ian only really intended on doing the latter.

An hour later and Mandy had finally stopped talking long enough to make them pizza bagels, though that wasn't technically true because she was still yammering on even in the kitchen.

"I went to see Mickey a couple of weeks ago," she stated, walking back into the room balancing two plates and two beers like a pro.

Ian's head shot up, his eyes slightly wide. If he was honest, he had been waiting for Mandy to bring him up because he was desperate to know how he was doing. Annoyingly.

"He's still an asshole," she said with a smirk handing him his beer and plateful of food. "He's actually made a friend, can you believe that?" she laughed a little. "I mean I know you guys were like kinda friends but that's 'cause you worked togther and stuff."

_And because we were doing it_, Ian thought.

"She's this girl he met in, get this, his fucking anger management class!"

Ian nearly choked on the beer he was swallowing. Mickey in therapy? The idea seemed logical but at the same incredibly stupid because Mickey was just Mickey, he would never change, he'd always be that idiot thug who loved to fight a little too much and was more than a little rough around the edges. Or so Ian thought, found himself hoping sometimes. That didn't really make sense because he had always wished Mickey had been just slightly sensitive. But a calm Mickey just wouldn't have been right.

"Wow," Ian finally said because that's all he could think to say.

Wiping her fingers on her t-shirt, Mandy nodded her head. "I know, right?"

There was sudden, loud knock at the door that startled both of them. Nobody ever really came round the Milkovich's house: Mandy's other brothers had all moved out now doing God knows what, Mickey was in juvie and her dad was high off his ass in the kitchen

She got up and answered the door and in walked three police officers - one of them Tony Markovich - and a bald middle-aged man in an ill-fitting suit Ian figured was a detective. Tony nodded at Ian and he nodded back.

"I'm Detective Smith, is your father home?" the man in the suit asked looking at Ian.

Just as Ian was about to explain Mandy walked so she was infront of them. "He doesn't live here and yeah, my dad's home. Why?" Her face was straight and there was an obvious edge to her voice.

"Where is he?" Detective Smith asked, looking around briefly before spotting someone in the kitchen. He looked across at the three police officers - Terry was well known for being a wild one and Ian wondered if three cops would be enough - then pointed to the kitchen.

There was a loud bang and soon Terry's shouts of protest were filling up the house. Ian stood with Mandy at the doorway, an arm around her shoulder, as the officers fought to control Terry which was made easier by how high on multiple drugs he was. The two of them stood there as they finally wrestled him to the ground three broken plates and an upturned table later and cuffed him whilst one of them read him his rights. They stood there as he was told he was being arrested on the suspicion of murder on two accounts.

Mandy didn't so much as flinch when she heard that. Ian guessed that growing up with Terry Milkovich meant that Mandy knew what he was capable of and that just because this was the first time he had gotten caught, didn't mean it was the first time he had killed.

He was hauled off the ground and escorted outside to the police car still shouting out nonsense and giving the cops a hard time controlling him.

"Hey!" Mandy shouted at Detective Smith.

He turned around and walked back up the stairs to the house. "Yes?" he asked like this was the hundredth question Mandy had asked and he was getting bored of it.

"Make sure the fucker rots in a cell," she snarled because Mandy hated her dad more than anyone and ever since he got her pregnant she was no longer afraid to show it.

A week later Terry Milkovich was sentenced to twenty to life. Mandy had told Ian that as she wrote a letter to Mickey explaining the situation.

Ian wondered if it would change things once Mickey was released, whether he'd apologise or just stop being such a cold-hearted prick becaue Ian knew that, above all, Mickey was scared shitless about his dad finding out and killing him and that scared Ian just as much.


	11. Chapter 11

Mickey had mail. Mickey never got mail except that dumb as fuck Christmas card Mandy had sent him and that had been months ago.

After he went to pick the letter up he went straight back to his bed and lay down on his front. As soon as he had seen the envelope he recognised Mandy's scribbly handwriting and began to panic slightly because he didn't know why she'd send him a letter instead of visiting him. Regardless, he ripped it open and pulled out the shitty piece of paper Mandy had written her letter on.

_Assface_  
_Dads in jail twenty to life he killed two people and the cops found out_  
_The house is paid for and everything and dad didnt know that I know where his drug money is theres like $5000_  
_Dont worry about me as if you even will I have a new boyfriend who sometimes stays the night and he is actually nice so dont you fucking dare hurt him when you get out! And Ian said if I ever felt too alone or whatever he would sleep on the couch so its fine_  
_I hope everythings good even if you are a dick_  
_Mandy x_

Mickey must have read the letter five times to make sure he was reading it right. His dad was in jail? His dad was in jail and would most likely live the rest of his shitty life in a cell? A laugh left his mouth and he didn't know if it was because he was relieved, happy or because it amused him how Mandy seemed to refuse to use any punctuation except exclamation marks - Mickey was no genius but even he knew the point of commas and full stops and semi colons or some shit.

When he worked out later on in the day Mickey thought back to what Dr. Harris had said to him, how winding up in jail didn't have to be his life. He wasn't sure why he randomly remembered that, but he did and it made him wonder if maybe she was right. All his life he'd been told by his shit excuse of a dad that there was nothing wrong with jail, that it was part of the Milkovich life and it was in their blood. It was drilled into his mind to fight and steal and vandalise and threaten and try his best not to get caught but if he did it meant he'd done something worth getting caught over, like that was a good thing, like he should aspire to become a thug. Mickey had never given it much thought, didn't dare to because his dad would beat the shit out of him if he so much as suggested that they didn't have to be complete criminals; everyone in their neighborhood broke the law in some way but that was how they survived and Mickey didn't see anything wrong with that, didn't question _that_. But breaking the law just for the sake of it, just to avoid a beating, just because that's all he had ever really known, well Mickey was beginning to question that. It wasn't like he'd stop fighting or stealing the occasional thing because Mickey enjoyed that too much to stop completely, but he thought that maybe he didn't have to cause mayhem just because he could and because he thought that that would make his dad proud. Fuck it, his dad was a bigger fuck up than he was; a junkie with no friends and nobody who even remotely gave a shit. He should have been trying to make Mickey proud.

That night Mickey felt eerily calm and at peace. He dreamt of Ian but it wasn't like the other times, he didn't dream about them fucking like mad and he didn't wake up with a hard on. Instead he dreamt that the two of them were laying on his bed, not really doing anything, fully clothed and barely touching. The sun peaked through his curtains, highlighting them until the rest of the room dissappeared and it was just the two of them. He and Gallagher.

The next morning he felt odd and confused and sort of wondered if he'd fallen asleep during the afternoon and had dreamt about the letter. He reached a hand under his matress and felt the envelope there; he hadn't been dreaming at all.

Kiera was sat hanging out the window when Mickey strolled into the anger management class and he ignored the stares from this new guy Jason who either had a staring problem or was as straight as Mickey was.

"My dad's in jail," he breathed out as he sat down and took the cigarette Kiera had lit up for him.

"Oh. That's good for you," she said breathing out smoke. "Life?"

Mickey nodded and couldn't help smiling a little at the thought of never having to see his dad again.

She cupped his cheek. "It's good for Ian, too."

Mickey leaned his head back out of her hold and looked outside. He didn't really want to talk about Ian. Correction: he didn wan't to talk about how the fact that his dad was now locked up would affect his and Ian's... thing.

Just as Mickey was about to take a drag of his cigarette, Kiera ficked it out from between his fingers and it landed on the ground outside along with the dozens of cigarette butts they were responsible for.

"The fuck?" he asked, frowning.

Her face was serious now and she looked at him all over for a little while then her eyes met his. "You cannot ignore the situation. It will only make it worse," she told him, tucking her ever growing hair behind her ear. "You don't have to be so scared anymore."

Mickey crossed his arms tight across his chest and sighed heavily in frustration. "I'm not fuckin' scared."

"So I can assume you were going to kill Frank for shits and giggles?"

Mickey looked at her. "Probably would've been fun," he muttered, but he knew that that wasn't why he was planning on killing Frank all that time ago. "So fucking what if I was scared, you don't know my dad he's fucking batshit."

Kiera nodded like she actually did know his dad. "And he would have killed you if he found out, I know. This is not me trying to get you to wave a rainbow flag everywhere you go and get 'I love cock' tattooed onto your forehead. This is me telling you that you don't have to be so scared anymore and you don't have to lie about how you feel," she lightly kicked his ankle to get him to look at her. "You don't have to pretend that you don't care about Ian."

Mickey sighed and felt like pushing her out the window because she just didn't understand. She didn't understand that even if Mickey did have feelings for Ian and actually expressed them like some fag that wouldn't mean shit because as soon as he'd said "you're nothing but a warm mouth to me" he knew that that was it for him, for them. Ian could take his insults and empty threats and his no cuddling after sex rule, Ian could take all of that but when Mickey had put an end to it, he knew Ian wouldn't take his shit anymore, he could see it in his big fucking eyes.

"That don't even matter," he mumbled chewing on his thumb nail.

"Why not? I mean-"

"Because he won't fucking forgive me, alright!" Mickey yelled louder than he had done in a while; louder than he had actually intended. Kiera's eyes grew wide and her mouth made a little o-shape. The rest of the class all turned to face them and stared like they had never seem someone angry before. Ironic, seeing as they were in a fucking anger management class.

Richard walked over to them the sound of his fucking flip-flops deafening in the silence that had grown. "We okay over here?" he asked softly.

Mickey rubbed the back of his neck and put on a fake smile. "Oh just fucking dandy, Rich," he chirped then let his face fall so that he was glaring threateningly up at him.

He soon walked away and told the rest of the class to carry on with whatever bullshit they were doing and Mickey rubbed his face with both hands and growled a little.

"Will you just give me a fucking cigarette," he snapped, staring back at Kiera, daring her to defy him.

She smirked and shook her head. "Why do you think he won't forgive you?"

Mickey huffed out a nasty little laugh. "Just give me a fucking cigarette 'cause I am so close to fucking killing someone and I know you get out in three weeks and blah-fucking-blah so will you just..." he spoke so fast and thought he sounded like he was begging.

"Why?" she shouted but at the same time whispered and Mickey didn't think he'd ever heard someone talk like that. Hell, it was fucking freaky.

"Why the fuck would he?"

"Ever heard of apologising, making it up to someone?"

Mickey scoffed and without warning Kiera slapped his cheek really fucking hard, so hard that his head jerked to the side; hard enough that it made his eyes water and his whole face buzz. Now Mickey got how she could put a man in hospital if that was how she slapped.

"Jesus Christ," he grunted, "you fucking slapped me!" he said, stating the obvious.

Kiera shrugged lit up two cigarettes and gave him one. "It's rude to simply disregard what someone is saying when they're helping you," she said softly, like she wasn't talking to the person who's cheek she had only moments ago slapped into next year.

"I didn't ask for your da-"

"I know you didn't ask for my help but that's because you don't think you deserve help, not unless it's to kill someone. You don't think you deserve what Ian could potentially give to you, and not just a great blowjob, so you won't even try and get him to forgive you." She leaned across and cupped both of his cheeks, forcing him to look at her, and the smoke from her cigarette drifted into her eyes yet she didn't blink once. "You deserve happiness," she whispered slowly then rested her forehead on his and closed her eyes and so did Mickey because he couldn't bare to keep them open. Was she right? Did he? Mickey didn't know, he didn't know why a fucking useless prick like him could deserve happiness.

That night when he dreamt it wasn't about Ian or any of the average things; that night when Mickey dreamt he saw Kiera leaning over somebody, choking the life out them in a dimly lit prison cell. He dreamt that Kiera had killed his dad. He woke up and wished that it hadn't been a dream.


	12. Chapter 12

Kiera only had a week left of her sentence; seven days and she'd be free, in the restricted way that people like her could be free. Mickey thought she looked sad but then he remembered her face that time she had told hime she was sad and it wasn't the same one he was looking at. She wasn't smoking either, well not like she usually did; her lips barely even touched her cigarette, most of it burning away. Her hair was tied back in a high ponytail, a few loose strands coming down over face.

Mickey shifted where he sat. "What's up with you?" he asked, trying to sound casual about it.

Her eyes met his and she smiled wide. "Nothing. I'm excited."

Mickey scoffed. "Yeah, well most people don't do look so damn miserable when they're excited."

She simply shrugged and threw the cigarette butt from her fingers. "It will be so great to finally smoke weed again," she sighed out, leaning her head back and closing her eyes.

"Fucking pothead," Mickey muttered just loud eneough so she could hear it. He knew she wouldn't say anything back because it had been months since she had tried to convince him that she was simply someone who liked to smoke weed a lot, which Mickey told her was a pothead, and it went on until they agreed to disagree.

"My dad's going to send me money every month and buy me a car just so long as I don't move back in," she stated, her eyes still closed.

For a moment Mickey felt sort of shocked because Kiera had never really spoken all that much about her family. "Why?"

"My pill-popping whore of a step-mom hates me and she seems to love blackmail just as much as I do so she told him to do it and he's going to. I don't care, though. When I was thirteen I survived on the streets for three months before the police found me, I'm sure living in a car will actually be kind of fun."

Mickey frowned and blew smoke out quickly. "You're gonna live in your car?"

She opened her and eyes and nodded, smiling.

Mickey didn't know why, but he suddenly felt protective of Kiera, just like how he often did with Mandy. He felt the need to help her even though she wasn't asking or even hinting that she wanted it because, and he'd never fucking admit this, she had helped him and he certinaly hadn't asked for it or wanted it and never appreciated it. Kiera had helped in ways Mickey didn't quite get and sometimes, he wondered if she even had helped, but then he knew for certain that she had and he'd never thank her because he couldn't thank people for doing things like; he couldn't thank people for being good to him because he didn't deserve it. And he knew a way to say thank you to Kiera without having to say it.

He took a deep breath. "Move into my house," he said, didn't ask, but told her and he wasn't sure what he'd do if she said no.

Kiera leaned forward but instead of cupping his cheek, which was what Mickey had expected, she put her hands on his shoulders and her face mere centimetres from his. "You..." she whispered and Mickey thought she was going to say something else but she didn't.

Was she saying yes? Mickey searched her face for an answer but didn't find one. "What are you sayin'? Yeah?" he asked, their faces still right up close to each other's like they were going to kiss, making him feel pretty fucking uncomfortable.

"If that's okay with your sister, then yes, I would love to."

And Mickey laughed a little because she had said that in the casual manner Mickey always found slightly amusing because it always came out when her tone of voice probably should have been anything but casual.

He shrugged, which felt kind of weird with Kiera's hands on them. "I'll send her a letter, tell her lazy ass to visit and I'll explain. She won't give a shit," he explained because he knew Mandy had always wanted another girl to live with them because even though she wasn't all that feminine, she didn't particularly enjoy living in a house full of men.

So later that day he wrote a shitty letter, more like a note, and it must've arrived at his house pretty quickly because four days later Mickey was sat across from his sister with only glass between them. He was thankful that the visitors were always seated before he and the rest of the jumpsuit crew walked out because he knew that now it was basically summer, Mandy would be wearing a tiny skirt and his fist would've collided with any asshole's face who dared to look at her like she was fucking piece of meat.

"Seriously? You want this "friend" to move in?" Mandy asked once Mickey had explained the situation. She spoke like Mickey had said he was planning on proposing to Kiera or some shit.

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and what the fuck's with the air quotes?"

Mandy laughed. "Well if you want this girl to move in with you, the two of you must be fucking or something, must be more than friends," she said smugly, raising an eyebrow.

He could have argued with her, but she was half right: Kiera was more than a friend, just not in the way Mandy thought. Plus he wanted this conversation over and done with and for her to say it was okay because Mickey knew she would eventually.

"We're not fucking," he said through gitted teeth. "So is it okay with you?"

Mandy shrugged. "I guess... yeah, whatever, as long as she isn't a psycho who's gonna murder me in my sleep."

Mickey rolled his eyes yet again. "She isn't and she won't."

And so they had went on to arrange for Mandy to meet Kiera when she got out and to take her back to their house.

Mickey knew it was only going to be a few weeks until he would see Kiera again, but fuck was he going to miss her at class. Now that she was gone he knew he would get so bored that he'd probably join in with whatever shitty activity the rest of them were doing.

Richard appeared to be waiting for him outside the door as Mickey was escorted to the class.

"Can you give us a minute?" Richard said to the guard.

The two of them walked a little. "What?" Mickey snapped, frowing at the sight of his straw trilby.

Richard shifted about where he stood, looking more uncomfortable in Mickey's presence than usual. It made Mickey smile. "Listen, Kiera had asked me, well warned me, not to tell you this but she isn't here anymore so I don't suppose she can do anything about it. The anger management class is only a four month programme. Kiera was blackmailing me, not only to let the two of you not take part, but to also let you stay even though you could leave. She said something about needing to help you figure out what to do or somehting like that," Richard explained.

Mickey stared him down, trying to work out if this was a load of bullshit, but when Richard nodded his head, Mickey knew he wasn't lying. "Sly bitch", he whispered to himself, looking down at his feet then back up to Richard. This was such a Kiera thing to do and like most things she did or said, it made Mickey want to punch her because he wasn't mad about it, he was glad. He breathed out a laugh. "Sly bitch."


	13. Chapter 13

**Just wanted to say thank you for the reviews so far, you're all lovely!**

Like the last time Mandy had gone to pick somebody up from juvie, Ian went with her. This time though, it wasn't to pick up her brother but his new friend - Mandy kept referring to her as Mickey's girlfriend and, though he didn't, Ian wanted to tell her to shut up because just the very idea of Mickey being with someone else filled him with envy, even if it wasn't actually true.

They took Louis' car and Ian was surprised that Mandy could drive, let alone so well. She had been to visit Kiera two days ago just so that she wasn't letting a complete stranger into the house. She told Ian that she seemed sweet, probably not a psycho murderer and that she had called her beautiful so all in all, Mandy liked her.

Ian didn't get the whole situation, even though it had been explained to him twice. It wasn't that it didn't make sense, it made perfect sense - a guy became friends with a girl in juvie, she had nowhere to live when she got out so the guy offered to let her move into his house. But with the knowledge that the guy was Mickey Milkovich, that simple idea became absurd. For one, Mickey didn't exactly have friends and two, even if he did, he'd never let them move into his house - it was a big enough issue letting Ian stay the night. He wanted to know what was so special about her. It annoyed Ian that Mickey clearly liked her a lot, more than he liked him, if you minus the sex, and it annoyed him that he was jealous of a person he'd never even met before.

When they arrived, Mandy parked the car and they walked to meet Kiera. Ian didn't know what to expect, he sort of thought she'd be a badass, dressed in black and covered in tattoos or something. What he definitely didn't expect to see when Mandy said "that's her" was a petite girl wearing a dress and little shoes, carrying a cardigan. It wasn't even a slutty dress, either, it was tight at the top but sort of flared out a little and she wore a belt around her waist.

Ian must have been staring because Mandy clicked her fingers in front of his face. "I thought you were gay," she joked, laughing softly at his expression.

"Just... isn't what I thought she'd look like," he said, still slightly shocked.

Once Kiera was close enough she pulled a fairly startled Mandy into her arms - though because she was shorter than her, it was more like Kiera fell into Mandy's - then she pulled away and walked up to Ian.

She had the prettiest eyes Ian had ever seen and he was having a difficult time looking away from them and it didn't help when she stepped closer to him and reached up to cup his cheek. Ian froze and frowned at her smiling face.

"Ian," she said, as though she was greeting a friend.

"Uh, hi," he said, completely aware that Mandy hadn't mentioned Ian to her. So, what, Mickey had done? Ian thought he probably told her that he was just some kid he worked with because there was no way Mickey would come out to anyone.

Mandy cleared her throat and a couple of seconds later Kiera let go and focussed her attention on the building she had just walked out of.

"Ready to go?" Mandy asked.

Kiera didn't answer verbally, but when she started walking Ian and Mandy figured that was a 'yes' and walked with her.

Ian sat in the backseat when they drove home and didn't say a single word nor was he wasn't listening to a word Kiera and Mandy were saying. He didn't care. Actually, he didn't think it was because he didn't care, it's just that he'd care more if they were talking about Mickey; he'd care more if Kiera was explaining how they became friends.

They didn't go straight back to Mandy's, they had to stop at Kiera's dad's house so she could pick up her stuff. She told them it wouldn't take long because her step-mom would have already packed her clothes and all she needed to do was pack the other things she needed. Ian felt sort of sorry for her for being kicked out of her own house simply because her step-mom didn't like her and her dad didn't have the balls to stand up to her. He started to wonder if he'd ever meet anyone with decent parents.

"So," Mandy turned in her seat to face Ian, "what do you think?"

Ian opened his mouth to speak then closed it again because he didn't really know what to say. "She's cool, I guess," was what he finally landed on because that was vague enough to not be a complete lie.

Mandy smiled a little. "She's kinda weird, huh?"

Ian nodded his head and shrugged his shoulders and then Mandy narrowed her eyes at him.

"You don't like her, do you?"

"What? I didn't say that, I just, I don't even know her," he said quickly.

The conversation ended there as they saw Kiera come charging out of the house wheeling two suitcases behind her with a blue duffle bag over one shoulder. Instinctively, Ian got out to help, taking one of the suitcases from her then lifting them both into the trunk of the car along with her duffle bag. She smiled a 'thank you' at him and he couldn't help but smile back.

When they got back to Mandy's, Lip and a topless Louis were sat on the couch playing Halo because as old as it was, they still loved it and the two of them had become friends despite how they different they were.

"You gonna sit on your asses or are you gonna help?" Mandy asked expectantly, pointing to Kiera's baggage.

Louis paused the game and jumped up taking the suitcase and duffle bag from Ian and following Kiera and Mandy who were going to Kiera's new room, which was Iggy's old one. Mandy, Louis and Ian had spent a whole day tidying and cleaning it because it had been left in a truly disgusting state.

Ian sat down next to Lip, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"So, that's Kiera?" Lip asked, looking across at his brother.

Ian nodded.

"You doin' okay?"

Sighing, Ian turned to face him. "Don't you think it's a little weird that Mickey is letting some girl move in? When we-"

Just then, Louis came walking back in and Ian had to stop himself from staring too much because Mandy hadn't exaggerated how hot he was. Louis was uncommonly kind and was always helping Mandy out with stuff and if Lip or Kev or even Jimmy needed a hand with something he'd be the first to volunteer. He wasn't the brightest guy Ian had ever met and he said 'bro' a little too much but everyone, including Ian, liked him and couldn't deny that he made Mandy happy.

He wriggled inbetween Lip and Ian. "We got another if you wanna join in, bro," he said to Ian, lifting up his controller.

Ian smiled politely. "I'm good, I'll probably head home now, but thanks," he said standing up and heading for the door.

He was at the bottom of the steps that lead up the house when he felt a hand on his arm. He spun round to see Kiera looking up at him. She sat down on one of the steps and patted the space beside her. Hesitantly, Ian sat down beside her.

She tucked a bit of her long, dark hair behind her ear and faced him. "He misses you," she said softly.

Ian frowned down at his feet then looked at her.

"He doesn't think you'll forgive him."

"He told you about us?" Ian asked and he couldn't work out if he was more surprised or confused.

"Yes. Reluctantly at first but I could tell that you were more than some guy he worked with because he gets this face when he talks about you," she breathed out a laugh, "but I got him to explain everything in the end. I slapped him once. I thought you would like to know that."

Ian laughed and was secretly quite glad that she had done that. He was glad that she was telling him things Mickey would probably never tell him.

"You sir, are gorgeous, I can see why he misses you so much," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Ian laughed again and looked down at his hands. "I miss him, too," he said softly and he didn't know why, but he felt at ease. This girl who was basically a stranger, quite an odd one at that, made him feel okay about missing Mickey and Ian had never felt that before - always thought he should hate him more, try to forget about him, regardless of the fact that it didn't work. Even Lip had told him to at least try and move on. But right then, sitting beside Kiera, he felt like his feeling were being, not only accepted, but understood.

The two of them must have stayed sat like that, Kiera telling him about the anger management class and Mickey and Ian telling her about what it was like before Mickey got put in juvie, for at least an hour until they parted ways after Ian promised he'd come back the next day to help paint Kiera's new room.

Now Ian understood how Mickey had grown close to Kiera; he understood why he'd actually want her around. Ian knew Mickey well, hence how he knew that, deep down, he just wanted to be accepted and not for being gay but for being Mickey. Ian knew he'd never say it but it was obvious to him and sometimes it made Ian laugh because if Mickey only showed people his caring side, they'd find it far easier to accept him. And other times it made Ian somewhat sad because he knew that the main reason Mickey had that tough exterior was because of the one person who would never accept him, no matter what; it made him feel bad because he knew Mickey craved his dad's acceptance far more than he wanted to. He wondered if that had changed now. He wondered if now that he'd been wholly accepted by another person and his dad was in jail he'd realise that he didn't need his approval. Ian hoped so.


	14. Chapter 14

Ian had roped Lip into going over with him to Mandy's to help paint Kiera's bedroom. He didn't take much persuading though, because after he had got home late the night before he had told Ian about how Kiera ended up walking around in nothing but her bra and and pyjama bottoms and how she was actually really cool so he pretty much jumped at the chance to go over there again. Debbie had overheard them talking about it and asked if she could come too because she was eager to meet Kiera.

So that's how the three of them ended up standing outside Mandy's front door waiting for it to open in the shittiest clothes they could find, which wasn't a hard task, and Ian knew that he and Lip would probably end up taking their shirts off because it was a crazy hot day and none of Mandy's fans were working.

The door swung open and all three of them opened their eyes wide because there stood Kiera in her bra and what Ian hoped to God wasn't a thong.

"Hello," she said casually, smiling softly at all three of them.

"Hey," Lip breathed out and when Ian looked at him he could tell that he was turned on.

There was an awkward silence as Lip and Kiera stared at each other like they were trying to send messages with their eyes.

Ian looked back and forth between them then down at Debbie who was staring at Kiera. "So," he said breaking the silence, "we're here to paint." That got Kiera's attention and she finally looked away from Lip and at Ian.

"Yes, right. Oh, you must be Debbie," she cupped her cheek and Debbie barely even flinched because Ian had told her about that. "You have beautiful hair," she said, taking hold of one of her hands and leading her inside.

Ian couldn't tell if Debbie's smile was genuine or just to be polite, but when they finally walked inside he could tell that Lip's certainly was as his eyes followed Kiera's ass as she and Debbie went into her room. "Your boner's showing," he whispered to his brother as he walked past him, earning him a hard shove. Ian just laughed it off and went into the room.

Kiera's bed was in the centre and everything else was either in the living room or the kitchen. There were old newspapers all over the floor to protect the carpet and four tins of paint that were all different shades of purple that Kiera had bought earlier that day.

She slipped on a large t-shirt that Ian instantly recognised as being one of Mickey's which Kiera must have picked up on because she gave him a sly wink. "Okay, it actually works out well that you brought this little beauty with you," she began, putting a hand on Debbie's shoulder who was sat on the bed cross legged, "because now we can paint one wall each."

They all agreed that that was a good plan then Ian said he would paint the wall by the window - the heat made him lazy and it was the wall which had the least amount of actual wall to paint - and the others decided amongst themselves which wall they would paint.

Within five minutes of painting, both Ian and Lip had removed their shirts, Kiera had tied up the t-shirt she wore with a hairband and Debbie had rolled her pink shorts up because the heat in that room, even with the windows wide open, was almost unbearable.

"Purple's my favourite colour, too!" Debbie chirped once Kiera had told her why she chose to paint her room purple. The two of them had been rambling on about all kinds of things like cartoons and Little Hank, who was now Debbie's boyfriend, and if Kiera had a boyfriend too - Ian noticed the not so subtle way Lip stopped painting and turned his head to hear Kiera's response over the radio - and why she didn't. They spoke about about things you'd expect to hear two twelve year olds talking about, not one twelve year old and a seventeen year old. Ian thought it was sort of amazing how Kiera had the ability to make people she only just met feel comfortable in her presence and like they'd known her all their lives.

Ian was getting kind of bored. Not because the conversations they were having were boring or anything, but the actual painting itself was and he had already finished the seond coat. He looked across at Debbie and smiled to himself before he sneaked up behind her and wiped his paintbrush all over her cheek. She shreaked, startling Lip and Kiera and Ian laughed to himself then retreated backwards as she ran at him and smeared paint all over his stomach.

Before any of them could think that it may not have been the best idea, they all started flicking paint at each other and wiping their paintbrushes on each other's faces and arms and legs and basically any body part they could.

Lip tripped onto his back and managed to bring Kiera down on top him. Ian was impressed with how she pinned him there so easily, despite Lip trying to wriggle free as she painted all over his stomach, laughing widly as she did but she made the mistake of looking across at Debbie because Lip then rolled them over so he was pinning her down and for a second Ian thought Lip was going to kiss her but he didn't, he just smiled down at her then stood up, pulling her with him.

"Oh, you two need to be hosed down," Kiera said, pointing her brush at Lip, dabbing it on his nose, then Ian because their torsos were completely covered in different shades of purple.

They went out to the garden and Kiera got out the hose. "Strip."

Ian and Lip looked at each other, confusion all over their faces.

"Just down to your boxers, you aren't part of Chippendales."

And so they did, they peeled off their shorts, getting even more paint on them but not really caring, then stood there in nothing but their boxers.

Kiera gave them no warning before she turned on the hose and blasted them with freezing cold water.

"Jesus!" Lip yelped, jumping at the same time Ian did.

"It's only water!" Debbie shouted at them, laughing along with Kiera at their, what Ian thought were probably two very girly, reactions.

Ian spluttered and coughed as the water hit his face and put his hands up to cover it because even though the cold water was begininng to feel quite nice, the Milkovichs owned one hell of a powerful hose.

He and Lip wiped at the paint that was on them until they were both clean then Kiera shut off the hose looking pleased with herself.

"That was very Pulp Fiction," she said.

Ian and Lip both shook their heads like dogs and shivered as they walked toward the two girls with their shorts in one hand and took the towels that Debbie handed them, smiling their thank yous.

Ian and Debbie left once his boxers had dried up and Lip said he was going to stay a little longer and he didn't have to say why because Ian could see the reason in his brother's eyes.

It was a few days later when Lip finally came home and not just to change his clothes and shower. He had been hanging out with Kiera and Louis and Mandy, but mainly Kiera, getting stoned and playing Halo. The main reason he had come home was to tell everyone that Kiera had bought this crappy little barbeque with the money her dad sends her and wanted them all to come round.

An hour later and all the Gallaghers, along with Kev and Veronica because they were family, were in Mandy's back yard feasting on hot dogs and burgers that Lip and Louis were cooking, getting to know Kiera.

Ian was sitting on the shitty porch steps with Liam on his lap when Fiona walked up to him.

She smiled broadly. "Kiera's quite something, huh?"

Ian smirked and nodded, looking over at Kiera who was talking to Kev, Jimmy and Vee.

Fiona sat beside him. "I think Lip's fallen for her," she said, and though he didn't look at her, Ian knew she said that with a smile. He knew that Fiona was pleased because Lip had fallen for a girl who wasn't a complete bitch - wasn't even slightly a bitch - and, given the chance, would treat their brother right. Ian didn't know how, but he felt like that was a fact.

He sat there with his sister for a little bit longer until Fiona was being called over by Vee, taking Liam with her as she left.

Now that he was alone, Ian let his mind wander back to Mickey; how he was doing and what his reaction would be to how Kiera had bonded with everyone; how he'd feel about her being close with Ian and even Lip; he wondered if Mickey would ever apologise for what he had said or do his own version of an apology. Ian wondered about all of the maybes and the what ifs concerning Mickey's release. He wondered until Lip sat down beside him and forced him back into reality.

"You're not done with him, are you?" Lip asked, staring straight ahead of him just as Ian was.

Ian sighed and took the cigarette that Lip passed to him. "No," he admitted.

Lip nodded his head and briefly looked at him. "Kiera told me he misses you."

Breathing out the smoke, Ian nodded. "Yep, she told me that, too. Told me he doesn't think I'll forgive him." He passed the cigarette back to Lip.

"Will you?"

Ian shrugged. "I hope so."

* * *

Mickey couldn't sleep the night before he was released. It wasn't down to excitement, at least he didn't think so, but because he was actually fucking nervous. Kiera had been to visit him which was kind of weird because he had never seen her in anything but a blue jumpsuit and he thought she looked like a little girl in her floral dress and he didn't hesitate to tell her. She told him that she'd met Ian and everyone else and really liked them and that her dad had finally bought her a car so she'd pick him up when he was out.

It felt weird to Mickey to be in his own clothes and outside, like properly outiside. The sun was shining down on him and it fucking burnt but he loved it all the same. He looked out and could see Kiera stood waiting for him in another little dress that made him smirk.

She went to hug him but he shoved her away. "That's for bein' a sneaky little bitch," he said, though there was no venom in his voice and Kiera smiled because she knew just what he meant by that. And when she went to hug him again, Mickey held her tight because, fuck it, he had missed her.

Mickey laughed in disbelief when they got to Kiera's car because he was no expert, but he knew an expensive car when he saw one.

Kiera looked over at him. "My dad's way of saying 'yes, I'm a shitty excuse for a father, a human being, a living organism even, but I have money'."

It was fair to say that Kiera drove like a damn mad man and Mickey found himself putting on his seatbelt quicker than he ever had before. Hell, he never even wore his seatbelt usually but he thought that they had probably been invented for moments just like this one.

"Mandy's having a party on Sunday for her birthday," Kiera informed him. "I was quite surprised that she didn't plan one for your big _coming out_," she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and gave Mickey a sideward glance.

Mickey glared at her. "Fuck off," he muttered.

When they arrived at his house and got out of the car, Mickey frowned at the sight of a clean front yard, wondering how the hell it had gotten like that before remembering his brothers and dad no longer lived there. Mandy burst out the door just as Mickey was about to open it and pulled him close.

"I missed you, fuckhead," she whispered into his ear.

"Yeah, you too," he whispered back because they didn't publically show real affection towards each other besides the occasional hug, and Mickey didn't see them starting to anytime soon.

He was dragged into the house and met by a topless Lip and topless random guy Mickey assumed was Mandy's boyfriend. Luke? Lewis? Mickey didn't really give a shit. He was kind of hot, Mickey thought, as gay as that was to think.

"Hey man," Lip said to him casually.

"Hey," Mickey said back, because he didn't really have any reason not to.

Mandy's boyfriend stood up and shit was he tall. He put an arm around Mandy's shoulder and extended his hand.

Mandy gave him her best death glare so he shook the guy's hand quickly.

"I'm Louis, how's it hangin' bro?"

Mickey wanted to laugh because seriously, who said 'bro'? But he bit down on the inside of his cheek because Mandy was still glaring at him and he didn't really fancy getting punched in the face. "Not too bad," he finally said.

After the introductions and the general chit-chat were over, Mickey headed to his room and was happy to see that it was all still the same, still messy as fuck. He took off all of his clothes except his boxers because it was just ridiculously hot and collapsed onto his bed.

A while later he was woken up by someone knocking on his door. "What!" he growled out into his pillow.

He heard the door open and turned his face to the side to see Lip standing there.

"You gotta piss just go fuckin piss, man," he mumbled.

He heard Lip laugh a little. "You gonna see Ian?"

Mickey wanted to scream because first of all, he hated being woken up and second of all, he didn't want to talk about Gallagher with his fucking brother. He rolled over onto his back and covered his face with his forearm because his curtains were open and the sun was too bright for his liking.

"The fuck do you care?"

"Lets see, because he's my brother and he's been pining for you for months and what you said really fucking hurt him," Lip's voice rose slightly.

Mickey sat up, back against the wall. Even now he didn't know how he felt about Lip knowing. When Ian fisrt told Mickey that he had told Lip, he hit him. Hard. But then he realised that not once did Lip look at him any differently or move out the way whenever Mickey walked behind him or any shit like that. Lip was cool with it so he sort of let it go. Sort of.

"Whatever, I'll probably see him eventually," Mickey muttered.

"Well he's in your living room right now and Kiera sent me to get you so unless you want her to cut off your dick, her words not mine, you'd get your ass out there," he said quickly, throwing a pair of jeans at Mickey.

Mickey sighed heavily. "Fucker," he snarled as he stood and shoved on his jeans before shoving past Lip and walking out into the living room.

Ian was sat beside Kiera watching the tv and Mickey literally froze where he stood like his whole body was now stuck in that position. Kiera looked up at him and Ian followed her eyeline and his eyes opened wide once they were on Mickey.

Before he could make it anymore obvious that he was practically fucking mesmerised by Ian's presence or some shit, he spoke. "Happy?" he said to Kiera, not giving her a chance to respond before charging back into his room and flopping down onto his bed, punching his pillow a bit just because it was something to punch.

Lip was around again the next day playing Halo with Louis whilst Kiera and Mandy were out shopping.

"Wanna game?" Lip asked him as he shuffled into the living room.

He shrugged and sat down beside him picking up a controller. And that's how they spent the rest of the day: asses glued to the couch only getting up to piss or for a beer. It reminded Mickey of when he used to hang out with Lip and wondered why he had stopped because Lip was actually cool to hang out with and always had good weed on him and clearly didn't give a shit that Mickey liked it up the ass. And Louis wasn't actually that bad, either. He was dumb as fuck but that just made him kind of entertaining.

Mickey knew that this was all the calm before the storm because he knew, he just knew, that sometime soon Ian was going to want to talk to him because he always fucking talked and the worst part was Mickey knew that he had to let that happen because whenever Ian had been pissed at him in the past he did stupid shit and he was on parole so he couldn't do that anymore. He was going to have to deal with it head on, regardless of how badly he didn't want to.


	15. Chapter 15

Ian walked with his hands buried deep in his pockets, the sun glowing down on him, warming his back. He loved the Summer and how it seemed to brighten up even the dullest of places.

He knew he was early but figured he'd only have to wait a little while whilst Mandy added yet another layer of make-up to her eyes for reasons beyond Ian's understanding.

The door swung open and it wasn't Mandy who answered or even Kiera, it was Mickey in nothing more than boxers that were low on his hips with his hair sticking up all over the place. Obviously he was still in bed regardless of the fact that it was two in the afternoon.

For a second or two, Ian forgot why he was there, what he was doing, how to breathe, even. Somehow, though he'd only seen Mickey a few days back thanks to that beyond awkward moment with him, he didn't think he'd be seeing him anytime soon.

"I, uh, I'm here to see Mandy," he breathed out.

Mickey looked down and walked back into the house, leaving the door open.

Ian shuffled inside, closing the door and once he turned back around Mickey was gone. No doubt back in his bed.

"Hello Ian," Kiera was sat on the sofa with her legs crossed and her bright pink bong by her side. It made him wonder why it had been Mickey who'd answered the door.

"Hey Kiera, Mandy ready?" he noticed she was watching The Lord Of The Rings and it made him smile - the girl had a serious obsession.

"Oh. No. A friend of hers is having a boyfriend crisis. She told me to tell you so that's why I am," her eyes never once left the screen, she was utterly enthralled.

Ian sighed in annoyance. It was Mandy's idea to hang out, he would have been more than happy to stay at home and lounge about in the pool.

Kiera paused the film and stood up, smoothing out the creases of her floral skirt. Ian thought the way that she dressed didn't really match her personality. She was sarcastic and weird, a total pothead who had a tendency to beat the shit out of people in the calmest of ways and yet her outfits were always so feminine, so pretty, _cute_ even; little patterned dresses, skirts always worn with stockings, button-up blouses, cardigans. It was strange so Ian figured in that sense it suited her perfectly.

She walked towards him and gently cupped one of his cheeks the way she always did; her own way of saying things only Kiera could really know. Though Ian had only known her for just a few weeks, he had already gotten used it, he thought it was sweet though a little too intimate.

"Stay," her voice was nothing more than a whisper, that one syllable a subtle demand.

Ian obliged, sitting down beside her on the messy sofa. A smirk spread across his face when she started the film from the beginning again.

They had been watching the film for over an hour and it had barely even begun - apparently once she'd gotten out of juvie, Kiera had treated herself to the extended edition box set. Every now and then he'd look across at her as she mouthed out certain lines at the same time as the characters, laughing silently to himself. It reminded of him of Debbie.

"Kiera!" Mickey's voice shouted out, travelling through the house, giving Ian goosebumps. God he had missed that voice. "Make me a sandwich, bitch!"

"Oh how foolish of me, did I forget to tell you?" she shouted back. "Saturdays are my days off from my 1930s housewife duties," her voice was full of sarcasm but her serious tone made it seem like she actually meant what she was saying.

Ian laughed to himself.

A minute later Mickey came shuffling out of his room, still topless but now with jeans on, and he wandered into the kitchen noisily opening and closing cupboards.

"Would you like to watch Lord Of The Rings with us?" Kiera asked him.

"For the fucking third time this week? Nah, I'm good," he replied, laughter in his voice.

"You need to give in and admit that you love it."

Mickey snorted loudly. "What, just 'cause you do? The only reason you do is because you're obsessed with that elf or whatever the fuck he is."

Kiera got up on her knees and spun round to face him, her eyes wide. "Legolas is... you know what?" she returned to her original position and flicked her dark hair over her shoulder. "I do not need to justify myself."

That just got another snort from Mickey and Ian couldn't help but turn to look at him. Mickey's eyes were already in his direction and he wondered if he had been staring at him the whole time. A part of him really hoped he had been. They held each others' gaze for what felt like hours, at least to Ian. Too soon Mickey looked away and began walking back to his room.

It was time. Ian knew he had nothing to apologise for, didn't have to explain himself but he couldn't just carry on pretending like nothing had happened and he knew Mickey would only approach him when he absolutely had to and that could be months away. So Ian got up and told Kiera he needed to use the bathroom and, without hesitation, walked straight into Mickey's room. It hadn't changed a bit.

"Jesus Christ, Ian, you heard of knocking?" he was sat back against his pillows his sandwich untouched, looking more solemn than usual.

Ian did nothing more than stare at him, wishing he had given what he was going to say a little thought.

Mickey stood, shoving his hands into his pockets, that action pulled his jeans down even lower on his hips and Ian swallowed hard because the guy was _still_ topless and had obviously done some serious working out.

"You didn't visit me," he mumbled out.

Ian scoffed angrily. "Yeah well I didn't know if warm mouths had visiting rights," he snapped, hardly believing what he was hearing; couldn't believe that Mickey thought that that was all on him.

"For fuck's sake," Mickey sighed out, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

"Oh, you're pissed at me? Are you freakin' kidding me right now?" he felt all of his pent-up anger come flowing out of him. "You have no right to be! You break it off like you never even slightly gave a shit and expect me to visit you in juvie?" he found himself laughing and breathing heavily, trying to regain the composure he had lost.

"I..." Mickey trailed off, looking down at his feet. "Fuck. It's just..." he rubbed his neck again. "You were never my fucking boyfriend and I wans't yours. We didn't owe each other fuck all, and-"

"Are you-"

"Will you let me fucking finish?" Mickey took a step closer to him, his eyes wide and flickering between Ian's. "I didn't wanna die just 'cause I'm a fuckin' fag, alright? And... fuck! You... you..." he trailed off again and rubbed his face with his hands then sighed deeply.

"Mick, what are you trying to say?" Ian asked. He knew Mickey wasn't exactly good with words but he wanted to hear what he had to say, whatever it was.

He looked up, desperation in his eyes. "You shouldn't have fuckin' believed me. I was tryin' to save my ass... not just from my dad," he closed the space that was between them. "Why the fuck did you believe me?" he shoved Ian slightly but then grabbed a handful of his t-shirt, pulling him closer still.

They stared at each other intently and Ian though his heart had stopped beating, thought the world had stop spinning on it's axis and time had come to a standstill.

"Mick, I-" A pair of lips on his stopped him in his tracks. His eyes grew wide with shock and his mouth forgot that it could move for a moment.

Mickey pulled back cursing under his breath but before he could pull back completely, Ian grabbed his face and bought it to his, crushing their lips together in one swift movement. Mickey's grip on Ian's t-shirt tightened as his other hand made it's way up the front of it, his cold hand sending shivers down Ian's spine.

Mickey's tongue forced it's way into his mouth and Ian's quickly followed suit as they fought for dominance. They had never done this before, not once. Ian had wanted to but whenever he'd lean in closer to Mickey's face the guy would stick his hand over Ian's face and push him away, telling him to fuck off. But now they were doing it, they were kissing and biting and sucking on each other's tongues and Ian thought he could go on doing this forever, he would gladly keep his mouth glued to Mickey's for all eternity.

Ian wanted him closer, _needed_ him closer, so he loosely draped his arms around Mickey's neck, pulling him forwards whilst he arched his back against the door.

"Ian, you're missing an awesome Gollum scene!" Kiera shouted from the living room.

The two of them laughed into each other; a pair of smiling lips against another. Right then Ian decided that that was the best thing he had ever felt. Well, maybe second best.

He panted a little as they reluctantly pulled apart. "Apparently I'm-" his breath caught in his throat once Mickey's mouth connected with his neck, biting and sucking, creating, by the feel of it, one hell of a hickey. "Missing out on... Gollum," he moaned out.

Mickey bit down hard a final time then walked backward towards his bed, a dirty smirk on his face. "You, uh," he stuck his tongue into the corner of his mouth, "might wanna wait a second, Firecrotch" he said nodding his head at Ian's pretty obvious hard-on.

"Yeah," Ian said with a breathy laugh, rearranging himself. "You kissed me," he said, smiling like a complete goon, knowing that Mickey hated it but not caring a single bit.

Mickey rolled his eyes at him and sat back down on his bed. "Yeah, well don't get fuckin' used to it," he said, trying to sound stern but Ian knew that whilst Mickey could lie like it was his job to, he could never fake his actions and Ian knew for an absolute fact that Mickey had loved that kiss just as much as he did and that he could and would get used it.

Ian laughed a little. "Right. See you tomorrow?" He sighed at Mickey's confused reaction. "Jesus, Mickey. It's your sister's birthday party."

"Oh right. Yeah, whatever, I'll be there," he said casually.

Ian smiled to himself at the sight of him devouring his sandwich as he walked out of his room.

He left an hour later because, even though the film hadn't even finished, he couldn't take another hour of The Lord Of The Rings.

Lip was in the kitchen toasting Pop Tarts when Ian walked into the house with that same smile still on his face, his heart still beating erratically, his mind still wondering how a kiss could be just as good as sex.

"Whoa," Lip put a hand to his chest when he made his way to the living room. "What's going on?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

"What?"

"Well, you're smiling like a twat and that hickey on your neck is telling me you either finally swapped teams or you made up with Mickey."

Ian laughed a little, looking down at his feet, slightly embarrassed.

"So are the two you back to being... whatever the hell you were?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Good," Lip patted his shoulder and went back to his Pop Tarts, oblivious to how odd his brother had found his response.


	16. Chapter 16

Nervous, that was how Ian felt, though he didn't know why. Sure, he'd only been around Mickey for five minutes tops, but the things they had done together in the past meant Ian really had no reason to feel nervous about being in the same house as him and yet he was.

Ian hadn't fully forgiven Mickey, he still needed to hear him say it, but Ian understood how hard it must have been for Mickey to express his feelings the way he had done and if that kiss was anything to go by, Mickey definitely had feelings. Then again, Mickey had always been better at expressing himself physically than verbally.

After he had a quick shower, Ian put on his black skinny jeans and a blue t-shirt - one of his nice ones - then went downstairs and saw that the whole family were waiting for him in the living room all dressed nicely.

"Here," Debbie said, handing him a present wrapped up in butterfly wrapping paper.

It was this tank top that Mandy had said she really liked a couple of weeks back when they were out, so a few days ago he went back and bought it for her. Ian was awful at wrapping things and Debbie seemed to enjoy it so he said yes when she had offered to do it for him. "Thanks, Debs," he said, kissing her on the head.

Mandy, more like Kiera, had invited a lot of people. Most of them were from around the neigborhood and were a little older than Mandy but they weren't so bad and of course Mandy had invited people from school so in the end it had turned into a full on house party: speakers blaring inside the house and out back in the newly tidied up garden; ridiculous amounts of alcohol and weed courtesy of Kiera of course and generally just a good atmosphere.

Ian smiled wide when Mandy finally saw him and the rest of the Gallaghers - along with Jimmy, Vee and Kev. Her dress was black, short and incredibly tight but Ian thought she still looked gorgeous.

"Hey!" she was practically beaming when she hugged Ian and it made him smile into the crook of her neck as he hugged her back.

She hugged the rest of them because in the recent months, Mandy had grown quite close to the rest of the Gallagher family, especially since her brothers had left and then her dad had gotten arrested. The Gallaghers had become a bit of a support system for her and Ian didn't know if he had ever felt prouder of his family.

Ian handed her his gift then Debbie handed her the card that was from all the rest of them; they'd all chipped in and there was $150 inside of it. Mandy set them down in one corner where all the rest of her presents were and said she was going to open them in the morning.

Just as they were about to disperse and mingle and Kev, Lip and Jimmy were about to put the drinks they had in the kitchen, Kiera came bounding up to them, her pink bong in one hand and that dopey lopsided grin she got when she was high as a kite across her face. "Ah, the Gallaghers, welcome to our humble abode," she bowed and then slung an arm around Mandy's shoulders that were shaking from laughter.

"Holy shit," Ian heard Lip mutter behind him, probably down to the fact that Kiera wasn't wearing her usual attire and had on a strapless red bodycon dress, showing off curves Ian didn't even know she had with her hair all wavy. That, and Ian also knew that Lip had a huge soft spot for Kiera.

As soon as everyone had settled, most of them, including Ian, moving out to the garden, he began looking around for Mickey, trying his best to make it unobvious.

Louis slapped him on the back, startling him. "Hey Ian, Lip, how's it going?" he asked with a smile shaking Lip's hand.

"Ah, not too bad, man. Hey we still on for Halo Tuesday night?" Lip asked. For the past few weeks Lip had been hanging out at the Milkovich's quite a lot, mainly to get close to Kiera, but he'd actually struck up a friendship with Louis and then when Mickey got out the three of them began having regular game nights.

"No can do, bro, I'm taking Mands out for dinner, but I bet Mickey will still be up for it," Louis explained.

As the two of them began to talk, Ian started scanning the area again, sipping on his beer every now and then. He couldn't see him anywhere and when he was in the house before he did a quick check, not counting Mickey's bedroom, and hadn't seen him so that's where he thought he probably was.

They had been there for half an hour and still he hadn't seen any sign of Mickey.

"Hey!" Ian said, slapping Carl around the head, taking the cigarette off of him - no doubt it was Little Hank who had given it to him.

"Ah, come on," Carl moaned, reaching out to grab it.

Ian laughed and took a long drag, purposely looking like it was the best thing he had ever done just to wind Carl up even more.

"Asshole," Carl muttered at him walking away.

Ian laughed again, this time to himself and took another drag from the cigarette then a swig of his beer, gulping it down hard when he turned to face the little, shitty porch that lead down to the garden. Standing there with Kiera, beer in hand, was Mickey. God, he looked hot and not just in the way he always did, but seriously _really fucking hot _like how he did when he sort of made an effort. His black t-shirt clung to his muscular arms and his jeans looked new and they weren't crazy tight, but tight enough that Mickey's ass was practically asking to be looked at and Ian did. He stared down his legs then back up again to his ass. Ian took a swig of his beer in an attempt to cool himself down because the urge to run up to Mickey and just fuck him was getting slightly ridiculous.

The cigarette inbetween his fingers was taken and Ian looked beside him at Lip who was smirking away.

"Oh, you're actually capable of looking at something other than Mickey's ass?" he asked sarcastically into Ian's ear so he could be heard over the music, laughing a little.

Ian rolled his eyes and took another swig of his beer. "Shut up, I wasn't staring at his ass," he said back, lying.

Lip raised his eyebrows in mock shock. "No? Jesus, Ian, you're about as subtle as you are straight."

Ian laughed at that because it was pretty accurate. He let his eyes drift back to Mickey.

"Hey, what do you think of Kiera?" Lip asked him, putting an arm around his shoulder for easier access to his ear.

"Uh, she's kinda weird but cool and-"

"No, dude, I know that. I mean do you think she's, y'know, hot?"

Ian frowned and looked at his brother for a moment. "You have an IQ of like a thousand and you're asking your _gay_ brother if he thinks some _girl_ is _hot_?"

"What I should go ask Mickey? Come on, you're gay not blind."

"Not that it matters what I think, but yeah I guess she is hot in a Kiera way, not like Megan Fox hot," he said before seeing Mickey head back into the house.

Lip gave him a shove and Ian didn't really need any more persuading. He made his way through the mass of dancing bodies, up the porch and into the house that seemed to be only slightly less crowded. He saw Mickey in the kitchen rummaging through the fridge, bending down slightly, and Ian, for the life of him, could not take his eyes off of Mickey's ass. It was simply an impossibility.

As soon as the other two people had left the kitchen Ian walked up to Mickey and stood beside him. "Hey," he said, trying his best to sound casual and probably failing miserably.

Mickey stood upright then turned around and gave Ian a quick once over. "Hey," he said with a smirk.

Ian put his beer on the counter then buried his hands in his pockets because he thought if he didn't he'd be trying to pull off Mickey's shirt.

"New jeans?" Ian asked, though he didn't know why because they obviously were.

Mickey frowned a little. "Uh, yeah, fuckin', Kiera got 'em for me along with about three more pairs, the damn basket case" Mickey looked down at his jeans as he spoke then up at Ian who was having an incredibly hard time tearing his eyes away from Mickey's thighs.

Mickey scoffed a little. "Why? You like 'em?"

Ian looked up at him and was met by Mickey's dirty smirk that turned Ian on too much for his liking. He smirked a little and licked his lips. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little lower than usual from how damn aroused he was.

The sexual tension was attacking all of Ian's senses: he could smell it, taste it, even hear it. They stood there eyes on each other's then on their lips then their crotches; they stood there staring at every inch of each other.

Ian quickly remembered that he actually wanted to talk to Mickey, not just stare. "Um, yesterday, what did you mean?" Ian asked, looking deep into his eyes.

Mickey shifted where he stood. "Come on, Gallagher, you know what I meant," his voice was low, but soft at the same time and he was giving Ian his puppy dog eyes that made him melt.

Ian looked around, reminding himself they were alone, and took a step closer to Mickey, daring to put a hand on the guy's hip. "I need to hear it and you need to say it," he said, hoping he didn't sound like he was pleading too much.

Mickey exhaled loudly and rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb and Ian smiled at the familiarity of the movement. "I meant that it was a lie, alright?" he said quickly like if he didn't he wouldn't say it at all.

Ian could feel his mouth turning at the edges, forming a smile that was probably worthy of a punch from Mickey but he couldn't care. Mickey had finally said what he had been waiting months to hear.

Mickey rolled his eyes at him and grabbed his arm with his free hand, pulling him back outside.

For the next two hours as the party went on, still going strong, Ian spent his time with Mickey and Kiera, not letting himself get drunk, which he thought'd be a good idea incase he and Mickey were able to get ten minutes alone, all of which he'd want to remember - Mickey seemed to be having the same idea which pleased Ian because unbeknown to Mickey, he got pretty vocal in bed when he was just tipsy. The only problem with that was how Ian had forgotten that getting tipsy whilst horny only made him ten times hornier which was killing him because his arm kept brushing against Mickey's and even that was turning him on.

Kiera left to go get Mandy's cake leaving the two of them.

Mickey looked across at him. "You drunk?" he asked, sticking his tongue into the corner of his mouth.

"No," Ian answered.

"Good."

"You?"

"No."

"Good."

And that was how they both knew the other was up for it - like the not so subtle glances at each other throughout the night and the fact that they were both always up for it hadn't done that already.

They had to move out of Kiera's way when she came back with the cake and as they did, Mickey lightly brushed his hand against Ian's crotch, and he almost moaned out before he managed to stop himself. That was it, he literally could not stand to be around Mickey if he wasn't having sex with him. Simple.

"Hey, can we go?" Ian asked his mouth right against Mickey's ear.

Mickey turned around and gave Ian a questioning look before he understood what that meant. He nodded, smirking and followed Ian as he rushed through the house and out the front door and began walking down the road barely giving Mickey a chance to catch up.

"Jesus Christ, wait a fucking second!" Mickey shouted jogging slightly to catch up.

They didn't even speak as they almost ran the short distance between their two houses, knowing that they didn't want to hear anything if it wasn't the other one moaning.

When they got to the front door Ian fumbled about with the key, barely able to see thanks to the lack of working street lights and unable to concentrate as Mickey snaked his hand round to grope his dick through his jeans.

Ian moaned out. "Mick, you're making it..." he moaned again, "really hard to concentrate right now."

Mickey laughed into Ian's ear and let go and just like that Ian burst open the door, Mickey close behind.

As soon as the door was shut Ian slammed Mickey against it and crushed his lips to his, knocking the air out of him slightly. They tugged at each other's clothes and sucked each other's tongues into their mouths moaning deep in their chests. Mickey pulled back and dragged Ian up the stairs by the wrist, almost tripping over his own feet they moved so fast.

Once inside his room Ian was pinned against the door by Mickey, one of his legs hitching around his thigh and his hands on his ass, squeezing and grabbing at it.

They somehow managed to get each other's shirts off but Ian didn't remember ever breaking the kiss but assumed they must have done because he was crouching forwards, biting at the skin above Mickey's ribs and then sucking one of his nipples.

"Shit," Mickey gasped out, grabbing at Ian's hair.

Ian smiled against his chest and bit down on the nipple in his mouth causing Mickey to gasp again then yank his head back up so they could kiss. Ian's hands were on his hips, pushing him backwards as they attacked each other's mouths, biting lips and tongues ramming down each other's throats.

Mickey began to undo Ian's jeans and so he did the same, pulling them down slightly along with his underwear so he could touch Mickey's bare ass and he had missed just the feel of it under his hands let alone the feel of it around his dick.

Falling back onto the bed, Ian was pulled down on top of Mickey and they began grinding against each other. The feel of Mickey hard as a rock turned Ian on even more, something he didn't think was possible at that moment. He pulled away from Mickey and practically teared away the rest of the guy's clothing, right down to his socks, and Ian stood up doing the same to himself, his eyes never leaving Mickey's dick. Once fully naked he pounced back onto him, ripping open the condom he had just taken from Mickey's jeans pocket and rolling it on then he grabbed the lube from under his bed lathered his dick in it then returned his attention to Mickey who looked so ready for it Ian felt he had to oblige, even though he wanted it just as much.

With Mickey's legs hitched around the bottom of his back and his arms hooked under Ian's own, hands grabbing onto his shoulder blades, Ian eased himself in and had to stop almost as soon as he had started. "Fuck," he gasped out into Mickey's neck. How did he forget that Mickey was that tight? That he felt _so_ good.

He could feel Mickey moving underneath him. "Come on," he growled, then bit and sucked on Ian's neck.

So he did, he slid in and out of Mickey excruciatingly slow because he knew he'd lose it if he went fast straight away, knew he'd be screaming Mickey's name far too soon.

"Fuck... oh, yeah..." Ian moaned into Mickey's ear as he gradually began to quicken his pace, feeling Mickey move along with him, feeling his hot breath on his skin and his mouth on his neck, muffling his moans. "I wanna hear you, I need to hear you," Ian panted out becaus he did and he didn't know why, he just did and he knew that Mickey would allow him to given his low level of intoxication.

Mickey pulled away from his neck a little at the exact time Ian jerked his hips in a way he knew hit Mickey's g-spot.

Mickey moaned out louder than Ian had ever heard him do so in the past and in turn that made Ian moan right back into Mickey's ear because that was quite possibly the best thing he had ever heard in his entire life.

"Shit, Gallagher!" Mickey yelled out, when Ian jerked his hips in the same way again.

Ian smiled and got up on his forearms because he knew Mickey was too far gone to complain about him looing at his sex face, which was so ridiculously hot, Ian couldn't even comprehend. "Oh fu-... there?" Ian groaned out, slamming hard into him as he jerked his hips, fisting his pillow, hands either side of Mickey's head.

Mickey's back arched and his mouth opened wide. "There... shit, there!"

The feel of nails digging into his back was what was making Ian slam even harder into Mickey, their yells of ecstasy filling the empty house. Ian couldn't remember the last time he felt like this, he wondered if he ever had done. Their bodies moved in unison like they were one, and he knew if Mickey could hear his thoughts he'd punch him, but he couldn't help it. Mickey just felt so incredible and looked so amazing beneath him moaning low in chest his eyes shut and mouth open that that was all he could care about.

Ian was so close that after another hard thrust he came, falling slightly onto the guy beneath him. "Fuck, Mickey," he moaned quietly into his neck still pounding into him harder than he ever had done before and three more thrusts later, Mickey was coming, white spurting up between them and his nails scratching down Ian's back.

"Jesus, fuck," Mickey sighed panting hard, wiping his chest on Ian's sheet. Classy fucker.

Ian pulled out and flopped down on his back beside Mickey, placing one leg over his, then flung the condom on the floor. They were both breathing fast and heavy and Ian could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt so content, so right, that the thought of having to move made him want to scream, but when he looked over at Mickey, his eyelids heavy like how they got when he was high, he couldn't think about anything but him; how his collarbones protruded; how his abs were outlined slightly; every little detail was ingrained in Ian's mind.

They stayed there in silence for ten minutes before Ian felt the bed dip and Mickey get up to straddle him.

Mickey kissed Ian quickly then went for his neck. Ian was going to have about three more hickeys to add to the one he already had and it should have probably bothered him but it felt too good and he knew he'd most likely wear them with pride.

Mickey began griding his ass against Ian's dick and he could feel himself getting hard again. Mickey smirked down at him. "Wanna go again?" he growled out, already reaching into Ian's jeans pocket, getting out the condom.

Ian nodded wordlessly because he couldn't even talk; he was trying to brace himself for what was to come. Ian loved fucking like this with his back propped up so he was almost upright, his legs bent and parted supporting Mickey whislt he rode him. The only thing was Mickey rarely would, it was too intimate for him, Ian thought. Tonight was obviously different.

Mickey put the condom on Ian and even that made him twitch, then he pushed all the way down so Ian was balls deep inside his ass.

Ian had Mickey's hands on his chest, nails digging into him, as he finally started moving fast up and down on Ian's dick, not even pacing it because Ian knew that Mickey knew this was his favourite position, that something about the way Mickey was positioned on top of him made his ass feel even tighter around him somehow.

Ian dug his fingers into Mickey's hips as waves of pleasure rolled over him. "Fuck, I missed you," Ian groaned rolling his hips, making Mickey's breath catch in his throat.

"Yeah? How much?" Mickey said with that dirty smirk.

Fucking a tipsy Mickey was the best thing Ian thought he could do with his time because he let his guard down and actually spoke, moaned out words instead of just sounds, Ian honestly loved it just as much as the actual sex.

Ian looked him dead in the eye then jerked his hips up the same time as he grabbed hold of Mickey's even tighter and slammed him down.

"Shit!" Mickey growled out, biting his bottom lip. Then his eyes grew wide. "Oh shit!"

"I know," Ian moaned back, but before he knew it, Mickey was jumping off of him and pulling on his boxers then he threw Ian's at his face.

"Not as in 'oh shit this is amazing'," he said scrambling into his jeans, "oh shit as in someone just came through your fucking front door!"

Ian's eyes grew wide and he copied Mickey, pulling up his boxers then his jeans, not bothering with the zip then frantically looking for his t-shirt in the dark as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Finally Mickey threw it at him and they sat on the bed, Mickey's feet covering the condoms and Ian still wrestling with his shirt and trying to light a cigarette at the same time but failing.

Lip walked in and burst out laughing at the sight of them, pulling his own shirt off that had something down the front of it. "Are the two of you seriously trying to pretend you weren't going at it just ten seconds ago? The room stinks of sex!" he said, but he was laughing and Ian could tell he was pretty wasted by the way he almost fell into their wardrobe as he grabbed another shirt to change into. He began to move out of the door then stopped. "Next time maybe try putting your shirts on the right way round," he said without a single slur, because alcohol never affected his speech, then walked away.

Ian looked down at his shirt that was on back to front and Mickey did the same. Ian laughed a little and Mickey punched him hard on the arm then Ian took off his jeans and t-shirt again.

"Carl's staying round Little Hank's, you could stay here if you want," Ian said smiling a little.

Mickey looked down at his feet and for a moment Ian thought he was going to say no, but instead he stood up, took off his jeans and t-shirt as Ian had done and crawled to the side of the bed near the wall and got under the covers.

Smiling like an idiot, Ian followed, sliding in beside him.

"I still don't do fucking cuddling," Mickey said quickly, right before Ian was about to put an arm around his waist.

He would just wait until Mickey was asleep, it wouldn't have been the first time.


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry it's been a while, I've just been completely uninspired.**

Mickey stirred, the feeling of hot breath on his neck confusing him completely. It was only when he opened his eyes that he was reminded of his whereabouts, reminded that he had actually agreed to stay. During the night Mickey had rolled onto his back and he now had Ian's face nuzzled into his neck, with an arm across his chest and a leg hitched over his hips. It was no surprise to Mickey: every time, though there weren't very many of them, he and Gallagher had literally slept together Ian would always find some way to sprawl himself across him, holding onto him like he was precious or some shit. It always earned him a hard jab in the ribs. This time, though, Mickey didn't hit him or complain, it wasn't because he particularly liked it, he didn't, but he was so fucking comfortable and the way Ian was mumbling a load of crap that wasn't even coherent was pretty amusing.

"He always does that."

Somehow, despite the fact that that he was basically pinned to the bed, Mickey jumped at the sound of someone's voice. He looked up to see Lip on his top bunk looking over at him. Before Mickey could do anything - not that he knew what he was going to do - Lip jumped down and sat on the desk at the end of Ian's bed then lit a cigarette.

Lip narrowed his eyes as he blew out the smoke he inhaled. "You're not jerking each other off under there are you?"

"Fuck off, Lip," Ian mumbled into Mickey's neck, just as Mickey was about to say the same thing. Ian was so close to him that Mickey could feel every syllable that was uttered and he didn't think he could really hide his arousal thanks to the thin sheet that hung from their hips, so to avoid any futher embarassment he tried to wriggle up the bed a little but the fact that he had one of his arms around Ian's shoulders - something he had only just noticed - made that really kind of difficult to do subtely. He opted for moving closer to the wall.

There was a little scoff from Lip. "He can be an asshole in the mornings, and not the kind the two of you like," and he barely had time to finish his sentence because Ian shot up and grabbed at his ankle but Lip managed to get free and ran out the room with Ian hot on his tracks. He closed the door with a huff and got back into bed, this time completely on top of Mickey.

It felt weird having Ian looking at him with his face mere inches from his. He didn't know what the guy was thinking and he often felt like he had a pretty good idea about that - around Mickey Ian was usually thinking about fucking or something like that but still - yet this time he didn't. All he thought he could, so all he did, was lay there with an arm under his head and the other on the small of Ian's back staring back at him.

"I really hated you, you know?" Ian whispered, his eyes growing sad.

Mickey shifted a little, physically representing how uncomfortable he was feeling on the inside about where this conversation could be heading; he felt uncomfortable because he knew that Ian couldn't have hated him anymore than he hated himself.

"Yeah, well, I did enough of that for the both of us so..." Mickey said, looking across at the wall like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

Ian got up and straddled Mickey, his hands rubbing up and down his chest which was making Mickey way too hot but he didn't complain because it also felt crazy good for reasons he didn't actually know. And, instinctively, Mickey put his hands on Ian's thighs.

"I know you don't wanna be my "faggy little boyfriend" as you've said like a million times before, but I can't go back to being just the guy you fuck," Ian said with something in his voice Mickey didn't think he had heard before. At least not from Gallagher. It was like a combination of confidence and fear and it freaked Mickey the fuck out. He wondered if running out of the house and back into the four walls he called his bedroom would make the situation better. He wondered if he ran far enough and quick enough that he could somehow escape all of this because fuck, this shit wasn't something he really knew how to deal with because this couldn't be solved with fists and harsh words and it wouldn't go away if he simply ignored it. But he didn't run and he didn't shout. Instead he sat up a little so he wasn't completely horizontal and sighed. No, he didn't want to be Ian's boyfriend because that was labelling himself, it was labelling whatever the hell they had and Mickey wasn't one for labels, he wasn't one for telling the whole world things about himself that they didn't need to know and labels did just that. Lables allowed people to judge you before they'd even met you and being a Milkovich, he knew all about prejudgement.

"Whatever, okay," he said, faking nonchalance, whilst having an internal fucking panic attack.

Ian smiled a little. "So, we can just be, I don't know, something?" One of his hands was flat against Mickey's chest and the other made patterns on his abs which was having the same effect as a lullaby would have on a baby.

Something. Something wasn't really a label, Mickey thought, not _really_. And that was probably the most accurate description of what they were, what they always had been. And besides, Mickey had been through too much for this fucking guy and he had been too honest for too long to start lying now. "Fine," he said, then rubbed his bottom lip.

That fucking idiot smile spread across Ian's face. "You're such a dick," Mickey muttered slapping his thigh because he couldn't be bothered to reach up to his face.

Ian bent down putting his arms either side of Mickey's head. "Kiss me," he whispered, his lips lightly grazing Mickey's as he spoke, they were so close.

Mickey scoffed and made like he was going to kiss him. "Fuck off," he said instead then laughed a little at Ian's face as it dropped and he actually fucking pouted a little like a kid who wasn't getting his own way.

"You kissed me last night."

"Yeah, that was different," Mickey said quickly, though he wasn't sure how it was different.

Ian rolled his eyes. "How?"

Mickey's answer was a simple shrug that made Ian scowl which made Mickey snort which earned him a punch in the ribs and that's how they both ended up on the floor play fighting - though that isn't to say they weren't actually hurting each other. After a while, Ian was straddling Mickey again as he pinned him to the floor with his wrists either side of his head, and if Mickey hadn't been so damn tired he would have flipped them with ease, but he hadn't had enough time to adjust to being awake, so he just layed there with a shoe digging into the side of his back and Ian looking down at him mischeviously.

Mickey squirmed a little when Ian shifted his weight because now that fucking shoe was actually causing him pain.

"Kiss me and I'll let you go," Ian snarled, shifting his weight again and causing Mickey to curse under his breath.

"Fuck, okay, come 'ere then," Mickey huffed out.

Ian put his face even closer to Mickey's but that's all he did. Mickey looked up at him expectantly because he was the one who so eager for a fucking kiss and yet he was doing nothing.

"I said kiss me," Ian whispered and Mickey didn't even hesitate, he caught Ian's mouth with his own and began kissing him like time was running out and anything he did had to be done at high speed. Within seconds they had their tongues in each other's mouths and Mickey was biting at Ian's bottom lip.

Neither of them knew how long they had stayed like that kissing like they were fucking, grinding against each other, but it took Lip walking in to get a change of clothes to stop them. After that Ian had managed to persuade Mickey to take a shower with him with the promise of a blowjob and who was Mickey to turn down a blowjob from Gallagher? They dressed quickly after, Ian trying to steal kisses from Mickey but failing every time.

It was only when they had gotten to the bottom of the stairs that Mickey began to feel like running again. It was when he saw Fiona with Jimmy in the kitchen and Lip sat at the table that he froze in his spot on the last step. He knew Lip knew and didn't give a shit, but Fiona? Mickey didn't know about her. Well, he knew she knew about Ian and didn't care but that's because he was her brother and they were Gallaghers, for fucks sake, and would love each other no matter what. She didn't have to accept Mickey and he didn't think she would. As for Jimmy, well Mickey had no fucking clue about what he thought.

"You staying for breakfast Mickey?" His eyes darted across to see Fiona looking at him with a plate of pancakes in one hand. She looked tired but at the same time she didn't look like she wanted to sleep.

Mickey stared at her, slightly open mouthed and risked looking like a fucking idiot but he just didn't know what to do, he didn't know if he should, he didn't even know if he wanted to.

"Jesus, Mickey, just take the plate and sit down," Ian said, pulling out the chair beside him and giving Mickey his best 'say no and I'll kill you' face and considering he'd only recently made up with him, Mickey was in no position to say no so he walked over to Fiona took the plate from her then sat down beside Ian who was smiling down at his pancakes. Mickey jabbed him in the ribs for it.

The silence was only broken when Debbie came running down the stairs, still in her pyjamas, and into the kitchen. "How come Mickey's here?" she asked whilst she got herself some cereal.

Fiona, Lip, Ian and Mickey all shared this weird glance and had the same look on their faces. _Shit_, Mickey thought, _fucking shit_.

"Uh, well Mickey forgot his keys so he stayed the night in Carl's bed," Lip said with a smile.

Debbie sat down across from Ian and nodded her head a little and Mickey thought that was the end of it but then he saw her frown slightly. "But why did you leave the party anyway, it was at your house," she said as she shovelled cereal into her mouth.

Mickey didn't know if Ian's younger siblings knew about him and to be honest, he didn't give a shit. What he did give a shit about was them knowing about him because he knew from experience that kids were the worst secret keepers.

"Because Debs," Lip spoke again and Mickey didn't think he'd ever liked him and his quick thinking brain so much, "Mickey's been in juvie for months and uh, well he and Ian are friends so they wanted to hang out, y'know? Catch up," Lip looked at Mickey and Ian gave them a knowing look which bordered being sarcastic.

Debbie simply nodded again and stopped asking questions. The tension in Mickey's shoulders slowly slipped away but the need for a cigarette didn't. He finished his pancakes - he had to hand it to her, Fiona could cook - then looked across at Ian. "I'm gonna go," he said, standing up sort of awkwardly.

Ian nodded and gave him a quick smile that almost made Mickey want to stay. Almost. But he left and as soon as he was outside he swore to himself then lit up a cigarette and took a long drag from it. He didn't know why, but he walked home at a fucking snail's pace even though the sun was horribly hot and he was dressed in dark clothes. The movement of his feet reminded him that the ground was still there, that he was still there; it told him that the world han't imploded just because he was now in a some sort of relationship thing. The thought of ever being in the sort of situation he was now in used to make Mickey laugh, used to make him roll his eyes and want to vomit. He'd see couples and he'd want to hit them. Mickey would tell himself it was because he didn't need to see that shit, didn't need to see kissing and cuddling and whatnot, he'd tell himself that it wasn't because he'd never get to do that and that filled him with envy like nothing else ever could, it wasn't because he was getting a glimpse of what could be if he was "normal", he'd tell himself that it wasn't because he craved having another person want him like that. Except it was. That's what it had alwayd been about.

When he got home, Kiera didn't say a word but he knew that she knew because when she cupped his cheek she smirked at him then touched the bite mark on the bottom of his neck near his collarbone. She took a step back from him and nodded and he did the same. It was like an unspoken agreement or truce or something that neither of them understood; they didn't know what that little gesture meant yet they understood it completely.


	18. Chapter 18

Now that school was out, Mickey figured Ian would have a lot more free time, at least when he wasn't working, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He thought he felt something like, what, excitement? He was uncertain but he knew that he had no need to run from whatever it was he was feeling and so when Ian had text him asking if he wanted to hang out he told him to get his ass over to his house and that was how they ended up sat on the couch watching some shitty gangster movie that Mickey thought was like a terrible Goodfellas knockoff, but whatever, completely sober. Even though he and Kiera had bought a few fans for the house, the one in the living room really wasn't doing anything to cool the air down and the one in his room decided to stop working which was really the only reason Mickey could think of as to why he and Ian weren't fucking. And fuck it, he kind of liked hanging out with him, he sort of always had done and it was the main reason why he'd so gladly taken the job at the Kash and Grab when he had gotten out of juvie the first time.

Mickey was too busy thinking to notice Ian staring at him, smirking, no doubt down to the fact that Mickey always pulled this weird, squinty eyed face when he was thinking hard. When Mickey finally noticed he turned his head to face him, scowled and punched his arm.

Laughing, Ian rubbed at his arm because even though Mickey hadn't punched him properly, it still hurt. "You good? Looked like you were in pain or something," Ian laughed out.

Mickey shook his head. "Fuck off," he muttered as he stood and walked to the kitchen to get he and Ian a beer each.

The two of them, sort of reluctantly, got way too into the film, as shit as it was, and Mickey was kind of pissed off that it ended almost abruptly and the ending credits started rolling.

He really didn't have a clue why he spoke, like not a single one, but he did. "Found out who blew off Pervin' Mervin's arm," he said simply then took a swig of his beer and looked over at Ian who's eyes had grown wide at what Mickey had said.

After a second Ian squinted his eyes and turned his body and tucked a leg under him, his knee lightly resting on Mickey's thigh. "Bullshit," he said, smirking a little.

Mickey scoffed and raised his eyebrows at him. "Fuck you, man, I ain't lying," there was a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Oh yeah?" Ian asked and Mickey nodded. "Who did it then?"

"This psychologist lady I had to see in juvie. She used to live around here," he vaguely explained, his eyes not leaving Ian's and he blamed that on the way the sun was peaking through the curtains he had closed in an attempt to keep the heat out, making them fucking shine and so alluring.

Searching Mickey's face to see if he was lying, Ian drummed a thumb on his beer bottle. "Really?" he finally said.

Mickey nodded looking pleased with himself and Ian chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly and it made Mickey smile as much as he didn't want it to. Ian's laughter died down and he went back to staring at Mickey. "This psychologist, she diagnose you with anything? Like being a sociopath, maybe?" he asked, cocky.

If Mickey putting his beer down onto the coffee table wasn't a sign of what he was about to do, he didn't know what was. He launched himself at Ian and knocked him onto his back and the almost empty beer bottle onto the floor. This funny gasping sound left Ian's mouth and Mickey laughed down at him as he pinned him to the couch. Ian didn't struggle and there was no need to because Mickey wasn't being forceful in the slightest, he was actually being something close to gentle. All they did was stare at each other right in the eye for longer than most people would feel comfortable with. Sometimes they used to do this even when they first began fucking when there hadn't been enough time for either of them to develop feelings for each other; their eyes would bore into each other's and it wasn't due to lust, it wasn't for any real reason other than they wanted to look at the person who was slowly worming their way into their hearts.

Ian laughed and put his hands on Mickey's cheek before he could swat them away. But Mickey simply rolled his eyes and covered Ian's face with his hand and pushed down so his head was squashed against the cushion behind and he could feel Ian still laughing. He let go and put his face close to his. "You're the one who's fuckin' a sociopath," he snarled before biting down on Ian's neck, causing the guy to moan surprisingly loud seeing as all Mickey did was bite him.

A smile spread across Ian's face. "Guess that says more about me than you, huh?" Ian joked, his hands still on Mickey's face. He used his hold on him to pull Mickey close enough so that he could kiss him.

Mickey rolled his eyes and kissed him back, hard and fast before pulling away and lifting his wife beater off. "I'm hot as fuck," he sighed sitting back up in his original position but now with Ian's feet in his lap as he flicked through the channels to find something decent to watch. Ian hummed in agreement as his eyes studied the newly exposed flesh. Mickey watched as he did so and he wondered why the hell Ian loved looking at him so much. It confused him and right then it was making him all kinds of uncomfortable.

Pinching Ian's ankle, Mickey spoke. "Carry on staring and I'll gauge your fucking eyes out," he threatened, though his voice held no real threat, whilst he carried on flicking through the channels. In the corner of his eye, he could see Ian smirk and set his attention on the tv.

They watched another shitty film until Ian had to go to work. He got a knee to the groin when he tried to kiss Mickey goodbye.

The next day Mickey got up later than usual and that really was late because he only had an hour before he was supposed to go to the Gallaghers for Halo night with Lip. He wandered into the kitchen to get something to eat and saw Kiera sat at the table in nothing but her underwear.

Mickey ruffled up her hair as he passed her. "Forgotten you own clothes?" he asked, as he put the eggs and bacon Kiera had made for him onto a plate then sat down across from her. His comment lost all real meaning due to the fact that Mickey was only in his boxers.

There was no response from her but that's because there didn't need to be. "Are you hanging out with Lip tonight?" Mickey nodded. "Hm, I might drop in when Ian and I are done."

Mickey's head shot up before his brain could tell him that that wouldn't be very inconspicuous. He quickly cleared his throat and looked down at his food. "Done?" he asked, trying his best to speak in that casual way Kiera had down to a fucking science.

"We're going out, getting high," she explained, looking across at Mickey who was now frowning at his breakfast - technically it was a late lunch - like it had deeply offended him. Resting her arms on the table, Kiera leaned forward. "Do I detect the look of jealousy on one's face?" she asked with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes Mickey looked up at her. "Fuck off," he growled through a mouthful of bacon.

She smirked then stood up. "Don't worry, I shall refrain from putting his dick in my mouth." And she scurried away before Mickey could slap her or something.

After he finished eating he threw his plate into the already overflowing sink and went back into his room. Thanks to Kiera having this thing about cleanliness and her love of blackmail, Mickey's clothes never stayed dirty for long and he actually showered on a somewhat regular basis.

He walked over to the Gallaghers as fast as he could because the heat was unbearable. When he arrived the front door was already open so he walked right in and was greeted by Lip who was sat on the couch in cargo shorts and an unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt.

Mickey took him scooching aross as an invitation to sit down so he did, handing Lip the game.

After an hour of pretty intense game playing Lip got a six pack of beers out of the fridge and they sat back lazily, taking swigs from their beer every now and then in silence.

"Y'know, as bizzare as it is, I'm glad you're with my brother," Lip said, keeping his eyes firmly on the paused screen and Mickey figured it was because Lip knew that the two of them didn't really talk about Ian, not like this anyway, and that Mickey would still hit him if Lip pissed him off too much.

That should have made Mickey angry, it should have annoyed him, but it didn't. What it did do though, was confuse him. He didn't think anybody would be pleased to hear that he was in a something with Ian, least of all his fucking family, because, and even Mickey knew this, he was not someone you wanted your brother or son or someone you even slightly gave a shit about, hanging around with. There was a reason why people would stay away from him and the only people he used to hang out with were even bigger thugs than he was: Mickey was no good.

"Whatever man," he muttered.

"No, but seriously, the two of you-"

"Fucking drop it, alright," Mickey snapped, looking across at him. Looking, not scowling or frowning, just looking.

Lip nodded and Mickey let out the breath he didn't realise he had been holding when Lip changed the subject to Kiera because he could talk about her and listen to Lip go on about her. It sort of made Mickey want to laugh when he thought about how much Lip spoke to him about Kiera and his love life, hell, even his fucking sex life. Granted most of these conversations had taken place in just over a week when the two of them were high together - Mickey remembered Ian telling him ages ago how open and chatty Lip got when he was high - and Mickey had actually found himself answering some of Lip's questions about Ian. However, the same couldn't be said when he had asked him about what it felt like to have a dick up his ass. No, Mickey didn't answer that, not unless you count death threats as answers.

They finished their beers and went back to the game. Mickey didn't know how long they had been playing and he also didn't know when the hell they had both slid off the couch and sat cross legged on the floor with their backs against it. Neither he nor Lip barely noticed when Fiona and Jimmy came back and Lip nodded his head toward the back door when she asked where the kids were.

What the two of them did notice was the way Kiera and Ian came through the front door a little while later, arms around each other, eyes red and smiles dopey. They were high as fuck.

The moment Ian spotted Mickey he walked over to him and sat on the floor beside him, too close for comfort but that's what weed did to Gallagher, made him real fucking touchy feely.

"Ian," Mickey whispered harshly when the guy put an arm around his shoulders and began kissing his neck, "wanna cut that out?" he jerked his head away and looked hard at Ian's face and he probably should've seen it coming what with how high Ian was and how he was smirking but Mickey still gasped a little when Ian grabbed onto the back of his neck and started kissing him. It was sloppy and fast and Mickey didn't know why he wasn't putting a stop to it quicker than he did.

Finally Mickey pushed him away and swiped a hand across his mouth looking angrily at Ian who was still smirking and playing with the bottom of Mickey's hair.

"Dude," Lip said, getting Mickey's attention, "at least warn me if you're gonna do that so I can pause the game," he complained, clearly unfazed by what had just happened next to him.

Mickey mumbled out something that even he didn't understand and tried to ignore Ian's stares and the fingers in his hair.

When the rest of the Gallagher clan came back into the house via the kitchen for their dinner, Mickey decided he was going to leave because it would have been way too weird if he didn't, even though Jimmy and then Lip said he could and should stay. He turned them down as politely as a Milkovich could, which wasn't really that polite at all, and made for the bathroom upstairs because he had been there for hours and had had three beers.

Footsteps followed him up the stairs and when he got to the top of them Mickey swung roung to see Ian stood there looking up at him sheepishly. It had been just over an hour since Ian had kissed him and they hadn't said a word to each other since but after eating a whole bag of chips with Kiera, Ian was now almost completely sober and actually able to hold down a conversation that made sense.

Mickey glared at him. "Me standing up wasn't a fuckin' invitation," he said.

Ian put his hands in his pockets. "You're pissed at me, aren't you?" he tilted his head to the side and it reminded Mickey of Kiera even though that wasn't even one of the many habits she had.

"I can't believe you-"

"What? Kissed you?" Ian's voice rose a little but it was nothing more than a loud whisper.

Mickey looked at him like an idiot because right then in Mickey's mind, Gallagher was being an idiot.

It finally clicked. "That I kissed you in front of Lip and Kiera? Come on, Mick, Lip didn't even blink twice and I don't even think Kiera noticed, not that she'd care if she did," Ian went up the last step so that he was level with Mickey.

Mickey already knew all of that but that didn't mean he hadn't freaked out, it didn't mean that he felt good about it. He looked at Ian who was smiling a little at him and, even though he tried to do the contrary, Mickey couldn't stay pissed off at him when he looked like that, a fact he'd learnt a long time ago. "Whatever, you're still a fucking idiot," he mumbled quickly before he started to walk away.

A hand on his bicep twisted him until his back was against the wall and he had Ian's face in his. "You're the one who's fucking a fucking idiot," he whispered, his voice low and his hands sliding up the back of Mickey's shirt.

Mickey smirked and stuck his tongue into the corner of his mouth and put his hands on Ian's hips, slowly pulling him closer. Ian tilted his head slightly as he moved his face even nearer then he dragged his eyes away from Mickey's mouth to look in his eyes. Mickey took that as him asking if he could kiss him and fuck it, yes he could because Mickey didn't think he'd ever wanted to kiss Ian as much as he did right then so he nodded a little and without hesitation Ian crushed their lips together with such force that Mickey's head fell back and hit the wall. He didn't complain he simply kissed back harder, pushing his tongue into Ian's mouth and exploring it. Moaning low in his chest as Ian bit on his lip, Mickey dug his fingers into the guy's hips and smiled at the way Ian moaned into his mouth.

They had only kissed a handful of times, half of them before sex which meant they had been wild and out of control, but this seemed different Mickey; they were no more gentle than usual and yet he felt like they had never been more gentle. It made no logical sense.

Ian pulled back and rested his forhead on Mickey's, his eyes still closed. Mickey looked at him, moved his head and kissed him softly and it that was all it was meant to be but Ian kissed him back and so they stayed there kissing like they cared not just like they wanted to fuck. There was no tongue, no teeth, no grabbing hands. It was tame and controlled and Mickey didn't know why he thought he prefered it.

They both seemed to stop simultaneously and pull away from each other, but only a bit.

Ian licked his lips. "So, I still shouldn't get used to that?" he asked, with a cocky smirk because he already knew the honest answer.

Mickey punched him lightly in the stomach. "Fuck off and let me piss," he retorted because that was easier to say than 'yes, you actually can get used to it.'


	19. Chapter 19

The days seemed to be passing by far too quickly for Mickey's liking; they were the most carefree he thought he'd ever been which felt odd because he was so used to being on edge fucking 24/7, but it also felt good and so he let it stay that way which meant fucking giving in every time Ian kissed him and kissing him back but only if they were alone or around Lip and/or Kiera because that's all he could really handle. When he thought about it, he reckoned they made out a lot more than they fucked which he pretended to hate to Ian but he actually thought it was pretty great. If Ian wasn't such a good kisser he'd probably think otherwise but Ian kissed like a pro and it turned Mickey on faster than anything else, which was a bit of a problem because that meant having to rush to his - it was mainly his - or Ian's room and while he didn't mind fucking whilst Kiera was in the house, it still felt kind of weird fucking whilst Lip was. How that was any weirder than fucking whilst his sister and dad had been home he didn't know. But yes, kissing Gallagher was actually really fucking good. And somehow sex with him was even better now if you didn't count the times when Kiera would wander in in search for Mickey's dirty clothes to wash - the very first time she did that, both boys freaked the hell out and Mickey cursed at her, but the next couple of times they simply stopped, put the sheet over them if it wasn't already then started up again when she left.

So things were going surprisingly good, and Mickey thought it was quite possibly happiness that he was feeling and he didn't really have time to fret, especially not when he and Ian were talking about a load of irrelevant bullshit or Ian was balls deep inside of him. Like he hade been a few moments ago.

They had fully taken advantage of the fact that Mickey had a free house and hadn't even made it to the bedroom for their first round opting for the floor and Mickey complained about the rug burns he now had on his knees as he pushed Ian into his bedroom. Ian pulled him down on top of him, both still completely naked. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey as they kissed lazily.

Mickey began grinding his crotch against Ian's and smirked at the way Ian's breath caught in his throat as he sucked and bit at his neck.

"Mickey?" Ian whispered.

"Hm, what?" he mumbled into his neck before pulling away and looking down at him.

Whilst he played with Mickey's hair, Ian looked everywhere but his eyes. "I'm not going to West Point anymore," he said, finally looking into Mickey's eyes.

_I know_, he thought, but didn't say, because it was obvious that it meant something to Ian to be the person who told him and there wasn't any reason good enough to tell him that his brother had beaten him to it. "Yeah?" He propped himself up onto his forearms.

Ian nodded and smiled a little, but it didn't seem genuine, not to Mickey. "Failed my classes," he paused a little, "I don't know, Lip talked some sense into me and he was right. I wanted to go for the wrong reasons."

Mickey watched him so intently as he spoke, like he was trying to figure out if all of that was a load of bullshit or not. He didn't think it was. "You still want out?" And Mickey didn't know why that question felt so important, so final.

For a moment Ian just stared at him and it his hands stopped playing with his hair. "I'm beginning to change my mind," he whispered with a little smile.

Mickey liked those words, he liked them because they were close to a promise yet they weren't quite there and Mickey hated promises because a promise can be broken: his mom promised she'd stick around to protect him then she killed herself; his dad drunkenly promised he wouldn't hit him again but of course he did, over and over; his brothers promised they'd back him up in this fight he'd had against three older guys when he was twelve but all they did was laugh even when he was crying and cracked a rib. Mandy never promised him anything.

"You're pulling that face again," Ian laughed out, dragging Mickey from his thoughts. "The one when you look like you're in pain."

Mickey smirked. "Nah man, I was just thinkin'," he said, running a hand through Ian's hair.

"Yeah? What about?"

"Never promise me anything, okay?" he said, trying to ignore the desperation in his voice and the way Ian was looking at him.

Ian nodded because, and Mickey knew this for a fact, he understood exactly what Mickey meant by that because he had shitty parents that broke promises like they didn't mean anything to begin with. "I like it when you're not being an ass," Ian said before he kissed him so softly that Mickey almost asked if he had actually kissed him at all. Those were the kisses Mickey had a love/hate thing for.

"I know," Mickey said casually, "that's why I don't do it very often." He smiled wickedly then yelped when Ian began tickling his armpit. "Shit, Ian!" he yelled out through laughter. He eventually got hold of Ian's wrist and pinned them either side of his head.

"Does anybody else know your weakness?" Ian asked him, a smug grin on his face that was so fucking punchable.

Mickey scowled at him. "Fuck off," he muttered as he rolled off and lay down beside him an arm behind his head.

"Oh!" Ian propped himself up on his elbow. "I've been meaning to ask you, do you want to talk to Linda about getting your old job back?"

Mickey shook his head. "Louis got me some job at the construction site he works at, start next week." Apparently Mandy had been talking to Louis about Mickey needing a job and Louis offered to help and even managed to get him a job working with him so he wouldn't have to do much because Louis had more heart than sense.

Just as Ian was about to speak they heard the front door open and they froze before they heard Lip and Kiera talking.

"We've got pizza, young lovers!" Kiera shouted, making them both roll their eyes. Mickey put on his boxers and sweatpants whilst Ian, begrudgingly, put on all of his clothes.

Kiera and Lip were sat on the floor on one side of the coffee table which often doubled as the place where they ate all of their meals and Mickey sat on the couch, followed by Ian, and grabbed a piece of pizza.

"Careful, it's-" Lip started.

"Motherfucker!" Mickey growled through gritted teeth, dropping the pizza back in the box.

"Yeah, I was gonna say it's hot," Lip said, chuckling a little along with Ian.

Mickey looked across at him. "Oh, you think this is funny?" Ian just smirked and shrugged. "Sadistic fuck."

Ian scoffed loudly and put a slice of pizza on his plate. "I'm the sadist?" he asked, eyebrows raised as he pointed to the hickeys and bite marks he had on one side of his neck.

Taking a large bite from his pizza, Mickey shrugged. "Didn't hear you complaining," he said with a mouthful and a dirty smirk.

All four of them sat there eating and talking about random crap and Mickey thought that it should have been weird and uncomfortable, but it really wasn't. These people had now become his little circle of, well fuck, they were his friends. That word felt foreign in his mind but it was welcome.

They had finished eating and Mickey and Ian were sharing a cigarette as Lip and Kiera shared a joint. Mickey didn't miss the way Lip stared at her. He thought about whether or not that was the way he looked at Ian.


	20. Chapter 20

When Mickey thought about it, there were so many valid reasons why he should really fucking hate Kiera but he just couldn't bring himself to. It wasn't even because he felt like he should or owed it to her. He couldn't. It was as simple as that. However, as he sat on the porch outside smoking his third cigarette in a row, he struggled to think of a single reason why he even bothered with her.

_The four of them were a little high and a little drunk, Lip nibbling on the pizza crusts that Kiera didn't eat. They were watching Scream and mocking it for how genuinely unscary it was when Kiera spoke. She was sat on Lip's lap sideways with her legs on Mickey's despite his annoyance which he gladly verbalized. "Oh. Mandy's staying at Louis' for the whole weekend," she stated and all three guys looked at her, expecting her to elaborate. She didn't._

_"So?" Mickey asked, speaking on behalf of the rest of them, even though he had an inkling about where she was going with this. He hoped he was wrong._

_Dragging her eyes away from the screen, she looked at him. "So, Ian can stay over and I won't take 'no' for an answer." She gave Mickey a weird look that he couldn't quite make sense of._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he could Ian tense up a bit and look at him. They'd only ever spent single nights together and that didn't happen very often and they'd only spent one night together since Mickey's release from juvie. Mickey seriously wanted to punch Kiera because this wasn't the first time, and he definitely didn't think it would be last time, she'd done this: put him in a situation where if he said no or reacted badly, he'd look like an even bigger dickhead than usual. The bitch._

_"Uh, well if that's okay with you," Ian said, but Mickey had his concentration so firmly set on the tv that he didn't realise he was being spoken to. "Mickey?" He twisted his head round and looked at Ian, raising his eyebrows, silently asking 'what?'. Ian smirked at him. "I said if that's okay with you?"_

_Mickey shrugged and faced the tv again, neither missing or ignoring the way Kiera dug her heel into his thigh. "Oh. Sure, whatever," he mumbled quietly. _Fuck, this is awkward_, he thought, _even the air feels fucking awkward_. Abruptly, he stood up, making his head spin. "Anyone want another beer?" he asked, then immediately regretted it because he never fucking offered to get shit for other people and judging by the others' confused reactions, they were all too aware of that fact._

_Lip eventually spoke. "I think we're all good."_

_And with that Mickey began charging into the kitchen anyway because he couldn't take the way Ian and Kiera were fucking looking at him for two completely different reasons. When he got there he leaned forward against the counter, his head in his hands, breathing heavily. Mickey didn't know why he was freaking out, but he was._

_"I don't have to stay if you don't want me to."_

_Mickey spun round and Ian was stood in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "Whatever man," he said, faking nonchalance. __Raising his eyebrows questioningly, Ian walked closer to him so he was right up close. "Seriously, I really don't give a shit." Ian scoffed at that and raised his eyebrows again. "Keep doin' that with your eyebrows and I'll shave the fuckers off," Mickey warned with a smirk, shoving his own hands into the deep pockets of his sweatpants._

_As Ian hunched his shoulders, he took a step closer to Mickey so that their thighs were touching then made for his neck. "So you won't... be mad... if I go home... and get my things?" he asked between kisses._

_Involuntarily, Mickey shifted his hips a little. "Whatever," he ground out, his voice croaky, before trying to get to the fridge which Ian made impossible by standing with his back against it. Mickey rolled his eyes. "Move."_

_Ian smirked that fucking smirk. "I will when you say you won't be mad."_

_Mickey hooked two fingers over the waistband of Ian's jeans and jerked him towards him. He ducked his head and licked line up his neck. "Move," he snarled into his ear then pushed him to the side. So Ian left laughing to himself and told Mickey that he was going to go and a minute later he and Lip left as Mickey made his way out back._

He took a long drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke up toward the sky. He was staring into space - quite literally - when Kiera sat down beside him and helped herself to one of his cigarettes. She lit up, took a drag, then blew the smoke into his face. "You're sulking," she stated. "Why?" She put her hair, that was now halfway down her back, to one side over her shoulder so that it stuck out against her white dress, and stared at him.

Mickey scoffed and looked at her. "I don't need you you playing fuckin' Cupid, alright?" he snapped, then took a drag. "And who even said I want him to stay," he said as he blew out smoke then rubbed at his bottom lip.

Gently, she cupped his cheek and looked deep into his eyes. "Your face did," she whispered, "and I knew you weren't going to ask him, so I did." She stood up and put a hand on his tense shoulder. "You're welcome." She left him then.

Mickey hated that she was right; he hated that she knew him so well; he hated a lot of things, but he didn't hate her. That was another thing he hated. After finishing his cigarette he stood up and stretched, shivering a little because it was late, he was still topless and despite it being summer, the air was cool. He walked into the kitchen and ruffled Kiera's hair as she ate a bowl of Cap'n Crunch. It surprised him that she was so skinny because she ate like she was pregnant with fucking triplets. She slapped his ass as he walked by and he cursed at her then walked into his room. "Jesus, Ian!" he shouted out. Ian was lying topless on his bed on his back, his legs bent up and spread open. He had that fucking idiot grin on his face that made Mickey want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. "Kiera let you in?" he asked, closing the door then standing at the foot of the bed.

Ian nodded then licked his lips. "Come here," he said, and Mickey smirked at the way his voice dropped.

He clambered onto the bed then knelt inbetween Ian's knees, thoroughly enjoying the view and he was about to lay on top of him when Ian grabbed him by the waist and pulled him down. At first Mickey just looked at him with the sound of his heart thumping in his chest the only thing he could hear and Ian's lust-filled eyes the only thing he could see and when he thought about it, sometimes they were all he wanted to see. Yeah, Gallagher had a fucking great body but it was his eyes that really did Mickey in, they were what made him think he probably liked the guy a little more than he wanted to.

Ian took hold of his face and kissed him hard, sticking his tongue in his mouth before Mickey could even think about what was happening. He soon snapped back to reality and kissed back, sucking on Ian's bottom lip then biting down on it. Fumbling with Ian's zipper, he moaned into his mouth and Ian did the same when he shoved his hands into the guy's boxers and gradually started to jerk him off slowly. He rested his forehead on his and looked down at him smiling at the way Ian's mouth was wide open like he was screaming except the only noise that came out of it were these short pants that had Mickey hard in seconds. He took his hand out and without warning was flipped onto his back and his sweatpants and boxers were being dragged off of him.

Mickey knew what Ian was going to do and covered his eyes with his arm like he always did because at least then Ian could only see half of the ridiculous face he pulled.

His breath caught in his throat when Ian began sucking lightly on the tip of his dick and he made the mistake of looking down at him at the same time as Ian took his whole length into his mouth then began moving his head up and down, whilst keeping eye contact. Mickey thought he was going to completely unravel; this was intense, too intense, yet he couldn't look away even though he was pulling a face that must have looked fucking awful. But fuck it, with the way Ian's hot mouth felt around him, he couldn't care.

Ian suddenly stopped and stuck a finger in his mouth as he put a hand under Mickey's back, lifting him slightly. "Fuck," Mickey sighed out as Ian slowly pushed his finger inside of him then starting going down on him again. His hips jerked forward as Ian hit his g-spot and he bit down on his lip so that he didn't scream out. Tugging at Ian's hair, he spoke. "Get up here," he growled and Ian stopped what he was doing, took out a condom from his jeans' pocket then stripped. He fell into Mickey's arm and their mouths met for quick hard kiss before Mickey pushed him up so he could get up onto his knees because Ian had already seen enough of his sex face.

As Mickey had his ass in the air and his face in his pillow he was hit with a wave of nostalgia that made something stir deep inside of him, something he thought he'd buried deep enough for it never to show up again. The feeling of Ian slowly pushing inside of him banished those thoughts and he didn't think he had the capability to think of anything remotely coherent.

"Fuck," Ian gasped, just like he always did and Mickey hoped always would.

His hips were gripped tight once Ian began to move out again then thrust back inside and yeah, it was super fucking gay, but Mickey help but think how he always felt so content with Ian in him. It wasn't even about being fucked, it wasn't anything sexual; it made him feel whole and right, like he didn't need to worry or fret about anything because Ian was there and he wanted him. He was wanted.

Ian was moaning loud, so loud that music from Kiera's room blasted through the house to drown ii out. Mickey wished she hadn't done that because he loved hearing Ian; he loved hearing Ian pant and grunt and moan his name.

Their pace quickened and Mickey gripped the handful of pillow he had so hard that his tattooed knuckles turned white and his nails dug into his palms. He began meeting Ian's hard thrusts, pushing back so Ian got even deeper into him. His grunts may have been muffled, but he was so overcome with pleasure that they were loud enough to be heard. He only knew that because he could tell Ian was smiling when he moaned out "fuck Mickey."

One of Ian's hands was on his neck now and the other gripped harder still at his hips, so hard that it would leave marks but Mickey didn't care, just like he didn't care that he was getting louder and his walls were crumbling down around him, succumbing to the desire to just let go because Ian was rolling his hips in that way that he couldn't possibly describe.

He got up so that he was on his hands and knees, his head dipped and his back arched and the movement caused them both to choke out a grunt. And Mickey was so close - he could feel his orgasm bubbling beneath his skin and when Ian slammed into him he was gone. "Fuck, Ian!" he cried out as he came, panting hard and fast. A few more thrusts and Ian was crying out his name and pushing his hand through his hair.

They both collapsed down onto the bed once Ian pulled out. Mickey watched Ian's head rapidly move up and down with his chest. He watched Ian's hand slowly rub his chest above his heart like he was trying to calm it down. Funnily enough, it had the opposite effect.

Ian looked up at him through his lashes then shifted slightly so the could kiss and it wasn't like the sex they had just had. It was small and soft and didn't last for more than a few seconds.

Ten minutes later and they were at it again. Except they weren't really. Mickey's legs were wrapped around the bottom of Ian's back, his arms loosely round his neck and he had Ian's under him. Sure, they'd had sex like this tons of times before, yet it was so different. Mickey didn't have his face buried in Ian's neck nor were his hands scratching at his back. They were joined at the forehead and the mouth, moaning as they kissed, swallowing the sounds to keep them for themselves. And when they weren't kissing they panted; their breath entwining in the short space between them.

Ian wasn't pounding into him, it was slow and steady and it was making Mickey _feel_. He felt things he never knew existed and it was only when they were done, coming down from it, that he realised he hadn't one closed his eyes.

Mickey wasn't the first to fall asleep like usual. He lifted Ian's arm and put it around his shoulders then rested his chin on the guy's chest and watched him sleep. He watched him sleep until the birds outside woke up and the sun began to rise.


	21. Chapter 21

**Again, thank you all for the reviews, they really do inspire me to write, so thank you!**

There were a lot of things running through Ian's mind when he woke up. The main topic being the night before and if it had meant the same to Mickey as it had to him; if it actually meant anything to him at all. And not like he wasn't already, but Ian knew now that he was so completely Mickey's and he really didn't care anymore if that was too gay or faggy and that Mickey would most likely kick the shit out of him if he told him that. Not that he would - there wasn't a long list of things that Mickey would gladly talk about and feelings certiainly wasn't on that list. More than likely, he thought Mickey would probably try and forget that last night happened and, again, would kick the shit out of him if he brought up the fact that Mickey was cuddling up to him, not the other way round, with his face smushed again his chest. He smiled down at him for the hundredth time then looked away and nearly jumped out of the bed when he saw Kiera asleep on Mickey's couch, curled up with a blanket over her. Shaking the arm that was over his waist, Ian spoke. "Mickey," he said softly, because he knew he was only half asleep and wouldn't kill him for waking him up.

Mickey stirred ever so slightly. "Hm?"

"Why's Kiera sleeping on your couch?"

Mickey lifted his head, nearly hitting Ian in the face, and looked over at her briefly before letting it fall back down on Ian's chest. "Oh, she does that sometimes," he mumbled.

Ian laughed a little. "Why?"

"Fuck if I know." Mickey scrunched up his face and looked at him. "The fuck you doin' awake?"

Ian rolled his eyes at his something who's laziness never ceased to amaze him. "It's nearly twelve."

"Exactly."

Smiling up at him, he lightly prodded Mickey in the ribs and reluctantly Mickey shifted a bit so that he could wriggle under him. For about ten minutes, Ian knew he'd be able to enjoy Mickey in his cute, sleepy state that he'd only witnessed a few times before. Nevertheless, that was more than enough for him to decide that it was possibly his favourite side to Mickey.

His bottom lip was licked then lightly sucked into Mickey's mouth and he trailed a hand up and down the guy's back as the other held his cheek once they began to kiss. Ian could feel himself relaxing into the bed and Mickey's tongue slowly made it's way into his mouth and met his own. He opened his eyes for a second like he always did when they kissed like this, to sort of remind himself that this was acually happening, that Mickey really was being so careful and sweet.

Mickey pulled away and Ian couldn't stop the smirk that spread across his face because for someone who was such a badass and had perfected the 'don't dare fuck with me' look, Mickey looked so adorable when he first woke up with his eyes still half shut and his dark hair, that Ian was now running a hand through, all messed up. Mickey smiled down at him, and he thought he was going to melt or something so he reached and kissed Mickey again before his jaw was being kissed and then his neck. "So, what are your plans for the day?" Ian asked whilst he made patterns with his fingers down Mickey's spine and his neck was being explored.

"Hm, get Kiera to make us some food," he mumbled against him, his hot breath making Ian shiver, the use of the word 'us' making him stupidly happy.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, then maybe go a couple rounds." The way Mickey's voice was thick and croaky with sleep did some serious things to Ian and he sighed out a moan when Mickey licked then bit his earlobe before facing him again.

Ian kissed him quickly then smirked. "Then what?" he asked, finding the conversation pretty amusing.

"All I got planned so far," Mickey said with a yawn, his blue eyes closing for a moment.

Shaking his head, Ian held Mickey's cheeks. "You're seriously falling asleep right now?"

Mickey dropped his head back down onto his chest. "You wear me out, Firecrotch."

Five minutes later and Mickey seemed to be back to his usual self: play fighting with Ian then stripping the blanket away from Kiera to get her up. Ian rolled his eyes when Mickey demanded she made them food but, just like he did, Kiera knew Mickey's little smile was his way of saying please and so she got up, half naked, and went to the kitchen. It almost surpirised Ian how Kiera and Mickey hardly wore actual clothing. He was no prude and certainly didn't mind seeing Mickey in nothing but his boxers or sweatpants, but hanging around Kiera when she was only in her underwear took some getting used to.

Ian and Mickey spent almost the whole day in his bedroom yet they weren't fucking, they weren't groping or grinding against each other. No, Mickey was on his back his eyes closed but still awake and Ian was lying on top of him, enjoying the way Mickey squirmed and complained every time he kissed him softly, though he didn't do anything to stop him and Ian liked to think it was because Mickey didn't want him to stop. He was pushed off the bed when he eskimo kissed him and Ian sat there on the floor laughing, waiting.

Mickey opened his eyes and looked down at him, frowning. "Get the fuck back on me," he said casually, but Ian heard his voice crack and smiled up at him.

He crossed his legs and leaned back against Mickey's bedside drawer. "I'm good down here," he teased, knowing that Mickey hated it when people didn't do what he asked, well told them to do.

Mickey leant down and grabbed one of his arms, pulling him up and Ian laughed as he fell back onto Mickey and his neck was bitten and he could tell that Mickey was a just a heap of horniness because his eyelids were heavy and he was kissing more with his teeth than his lips.

Within seconds they were out of their boxers and Ian was pushing into Mickey, kissing at his neck and getting lost in how good he felt. But before they could really get into it, Mickey's phone began to vibrate on the floor and Ian figured he'd just ignore it because he thought Mickey would too, so when Mickey began to push him away and reached for his phone he couldn't really hide his annoyance. "You're really gonna answer your phone?" he asked, pulling out of him and and kneeling between Mickey's legs as he sat up against the pillows.

"It's Louis calling me about work, douchebag," he said in a deadpan tone. Mickey picked up his phone - Ian had already given him shit for stealing yet another iPhone only a few weeks after getting out of damn juvie but he knew his words were wasted on him - and answered. "Hey man."

As they began to converse, Ian grew bored and he was still horny so he bent down and sucked on Mickey for a moment, smirking at the way Mickey choaked out a moan.

Mickey's jaw clenched. "Yeah, I'm with some girl," he lied with a fake laugh then mouthed 'you're fucking dead' at him as he silently laughed to himself then grunted when Mickey kicked him hard in the stomach. Standing up and pulling on his boxers, Ian raised his eyebrows at Mickey and sure enough, he copied Ian's actions, balancing his phone between his shoulder and ear, ending the conversation quickly with a "yeah, see ya", as he stalked Ian who was slowly backing out of the room and as soon as Mickey threw his phone down he charged toward him, slamming him into the wall and then tackling him onto couch. They wrestled about for a minute, Ian purposely annoying Mickey by leaning up to kiss him every time he pinned him down.

Reluctantly, they stopped fooling around when Lip walked in through the door that Ian wished Kiera had locked on her way out.

"Jesus, I haven't interrupted a round of sex, have I?" Lip asked, turning away like he actually thought he had.

Ian pushed Mickey off of him, hard, for having twisted his nipple moments before. Mickey smirked down at him then got them both a pair of his sweatpants to put on. Ian had to fight the urge to smell them because they smelt just like Mickey; they smelt of comfort.

Gradually, Ian's concentration drifted from whatever game it was that Lip and Mickey were playing. The two of them and Louis always got far too invested in video games to the point that Ian thought it bordered on nerdy, but he never said anything. He'd simply sit there watching or pick up a controller and join in. He was doing neither then because apparently Lip and Mickey were on a quest or a mission or something like that and they needed to complete it. Ian looked across at the two of them: his brother and his - ah what the hell, Mickey couldn't hear him thinking - boyfriend. His brother and his boyfriend. Ian bit his lip to stop the laughter that threatened to escape his mouth when he began thinking how he'd have reacted a couple years back if someone had told him that Mickey Milkovich would wind up being his, somewhat reluctant, boyfriend and that he and his brother would strike up a friendship centered around video games and a girl Mickey met in juvie. When he thought about it, Kiera probably played a really big part in getting them officialy together. He didn't know fully what she and Mickey spoke about in their anger management class, but she must have talked some sense into Mickey and she had defnitely talked some sense into him. And though Lip was by far the smartest person Ian knew, he sometimes found himself wondering if maybe Kiera was actually smarter than him. Not like book smart, not that he even knew what kind of grades she got when she actually used to go to school, but she seemed to understand anything you told her, even if she couldn't possibly relate to it. Ian thought she was like a wise old man who had lived a long and eventful life that had taught him everything he knew, except she wasn't a wise old man, she was a seventeen year old girl.

As though she knew she was being thought about, Kiera came rushing through the door, her hair up in messy bun and her cheeks pink. She was breathing hard and looked like she had just been running for her life.

Lip took a double take then paused the game, Mickey grunted out a protest but then sat back, his arm brushing against Ian's. "You okay?" Lip asked her and Ian smiled at the blatant concern that he heard in his brother's voice.

She breathed out a laugh and took off her brogues. "Oh. I'm okay. Had to run from some cops who saw me buying weed," she breathed hard, hand on her hip, "but the Chicago police force are made up some amateur sprinters, that's for sure."

All three guys looked at her, half astounded and half nonchalant because Kiera's drug deals were forever being spotted and she never seemed remotely fazed by it. Ian began to think that she probably quite liked it.

Kiera sat on the floor in the middle of Lip's legs and rested her head on his knee. It didn't make sense to Ian that the two of them weren't a couple because they were so into each other and both were single and how could it not be as simple as that? He wanted Lip to have a decent girlfriend, or at least one that didn't completely screw him over and Kiera was so cool and kind of perfect for him.

Three hours. They had been playing that same game for three hours straight and it was now early morning. Ian was bored out of his mind and kind of pissed off that Mickey wasn't interested in him and all of his attention was on the tv screen as he shot and blew fake people up.. He huffed, crosing then uncrossing his arms. "I'm going to bed," he said into Mickey's ear over the loud sounds of guns and bombs and whatever else.

Handing the controller to Kiera, Mickey looked at him, his brows furrowed. "What?"

"I'm going to bed."

"Why?" Mickey turned his body to face him and Ian did the same so that there knees touched.

He shrugged. "I'm really fucking bored," he said with a laugh so that his words didn't sound so harsh.

Mickey's face fell slightly. "Oh." He pulled that face that Ian knew meant he was thinking hard. "Want me to come with you?" he asked and Ian wanted to tell him how cute he looked but bit his tongue and shook his head and was about to leave. "Well come 'ere," he heard Mickey say as he grabbed his arm.

He looked at Lip and Kiera who either couldn't hear them over the game or were ingoring them, then back at Mickey. Smiling, he leaned across and kissed Mickey hard, not expecting to be held onto and kissed back even harder. Mickey pulled away and took the controller away from Kiera whilst Ian stared, taken aback.

"Well fuck off then," Mickey muttered, glancing at him for a second.

And Ian left and when he got there, collapsed onto Mickey's bed because he was even more tired than he was bored.

It didn't immediately register with Ian that Mickey was now beside him because he didn't think he'd been in bed for all that long, maybe ten mintes at the most, but as soon as he realised he snuggled up to him and fell asleep, drifting into a state of oblivion.

"What the hell!"


	22. Chapter 22

"What the hell!"

Ian shot up with such speed that he felt light headed for a second as he saw Mandy stood at the door. Her eyes were wide but she was frowning at the same time and for a second Ian forgot where he was, forgot what he was doing. Mickey was frozen beside him and it reminded Ian of the time after they'd first slept together when Terry walked into the room, only this time Ian wasn't afraid to move, to breathe even. Quickly he got out of bed and scrambled around for his shirt as Mandy left the room, slamming the door behind her. He looked over at Mickey who had his head in his hands and he could just make out the whispered curses he was muttering under his breath. The almost calm manner in which Mickey was handling the situation freaked Ian out. He found himself wanting Mickey to shout and scream, punch a wall or something, but he didn't.

Ian tripped slightly once he began jogging after Mandy still putting on his shoes. She was at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the house and when she saw him approach her she started walking again, her fists clenched by her side and her skirt swaying with how fast she was moving. Ian couldn't let her go without at least explaining.

"Mandy!" he called after her, jogging so that he could cacth up. "Mandy, wait," he took hold of her arm to stop her and she did stop. She stopped right where she was, yet didn't turn around, like she couldn't bare to look at him. Ian walked infront of her. "Mandy-"

"My brother?" she snapped through gritted teeth, her fist hitting his chest and Ian wouldn't have stumbled slightly if he knew that that was coming, but he didn't.

"Mandy, look will you just come back inside so we can talk about it?" he said quickly but calmly, hoping he'd be able to calm her down just with his voice like he could with Mickey. The way she scoffed and shook her head implied it hadn't worked. "Please," he whispered, practically begged.

Her features softened, but not completely and Ian noticed that her fists were still clenched. "What the fuck is going on? You and my brother? Like... what?" There was confusion in her voice but Ian thought there was something else, too. Sadness maybe. Betrayal?

Ian looked at the ground and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. No words left his mouth and for a second they stood there in tense silence. He looked at her and noticed he was suddenly breathing heavily. "We... I don't know, we're together, I guess," he said, looking everywhere but at Mandy.

"Shit," she whispered, "Mickey's, like, gay?" She said that even quieter.

Nodding, Ian looked at her and saw the way her face dropped and her eyes seemed to water and he hoped, he really hoped she wasn't going to start crying.

Mandy shook her head and blinked a few times, her expression hardening again. "Why didn't you tell me about the two of you? I mean, how long has this been goin' on?"

This was the part Ian didn't want to talk about; the part he had dreaded thinking about explaining. Whenever he'd think about how one day he and Mickey were going to have to tell Mandy, this was the question he'd pray she'd never ask because he knew she'd be hurt that he had kept this from her for so long. It wasn't just because Mickey was her brother, but because Ian was her best friend and they told each other everything, really. She had been the first person Ian had properly come out too and that meant something to the both of them, even if they never mentioned it. They told each other silly small things about their day or their families or whatever, but they also told each other the big things. He hated that it took her walking in on he and Mickey asleep together for her to find out. "I didn't want to out Mickey, y'know? That wasn't my news to tell," he replied, only answering one of her questions, thinking that'd be enough.

She squinted at him, looking deep into his eyes which really did scare Ian quite a bit. She was a Milkovich after all. "How long?" she said slowly, though he thought she already knew half the answer.

Shoving his hands into Mickey's sweatpant's pockets, he wondered how he could best word it. Saying 'a long time' probably wouldn't cut it, but it wasn't like Ian knew the exact date and time. "Since before Mickey went to juvie," he said, then cleared his throat, "the first time."

One of Mandy's hands ran through her hair and she laughed in what sounded like disbelief. "Oh my God," she whispered to herself. "So what, the two of you have been fucking and playing boyfriends this whole time and didn't think to tell me?" Her voice was rising and she took a step back away from him. "Let me guess: I'm the only one who doesn't know, right? Have you had fun laughing at me behind my back at how fucking dumb I am?" Ian had never seen her like this. She looked so hurt and angry and definitely betrayed. "Fuck you," she said softly, her voice breaking. She pushed him out of her way then began to walk down the street.

"Mandy! Where are you going?" Ian shouted after her.

Not stopping once, she carried on walking. "I can't fucking do this right now!" she shouted back without turning around.

Ian stood there staring at her as she walked away and crossed the street and out of sight. Rubbing his face, he growled out a sigh. "Shit," he whispered as he began to walk back to the house, breathing hard trying to calm his thumping heart. Mickey was sat on the edge of the couch when he walked back inside and Ian didn't recognise his expression, he had never seen it before and it unnerved him. "Mickey, sh-"

"Get out," Mickey snapped, his voice low and threatening and Ian met his stare with confidence because no, he wasn't going to get out. He wasn't going to leave, not like this.


	23. Chapter 23

As soon as he'd heard "what the hell!" Mickey knew it was Mandy even though he kept his eyes shut tight for a moment longer than they needed to be - he couldn't bring himself to look at her or Ian for that matter. When he felt the bed dip and Ian stand, he sat up and held his head in his hands, like covering his face would hide him from what had happened, what was going to happen. He heard Ian leave after Mandy and he felt like locking the door, locking Ian and everybody else the fuck out so he could just be.

He punched his wall and for a few seconds his mind concentrated on the pain that rushed through his knuckles; for a second he forgot that his sister had walked in on him and Ian fucking cuddling as they slept. Laughter spilled from him because of course she'd catch them like that, couldn't catch them fucking which, as weird as Mickey thought this was, would actually be better, be easier to explain. If she had caught them fucking Ian coud be out there telling her that it was just about sex, that they were only fucking. That was it. End of. Instead he'd be telling her that they were together or something faggy like that, and worst of all Mickey wouldn't be able to deny that, at least not honestly. He and Ian were together; they were something. Though something felt suspiciously like a relationship to Mickey and that annoyed him because that meant being somebody's boyfriend, like he was owned or some shit. Nobody fucking owned him. He really fucking hoped nobody owned him.

He walked out into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch, looking around, he didn't know why, but he did. What the fuck else could he do? There was no way he was about to run out after Ian and try to talk to Mandy and besides, he knew she'd walk off eventually because that was what Milkovichs did when they were in a situation that was difficult or that they wanted out of; they simply walked away. Mickey had walked away before, just like he knew he would now.

Fuck Ian and his damn face and his hands and his eyes and his everything. Fuck Ian for making him into the kind of dick that had a heart somewhere deep inside that occasionally spoke louder than his mind and told him to kiss his lips gently or push his hand through his hair. Fuck Ian and fuck Kiera. Fuck Kiera because she had told him he deserved happiness and that he didn't need to be scared anymore. Fuck Kiera because she had managed to drill that into Mickey's mind so much that he believed it. Fuck Kiera for meddling and sticking her fucking nose into his buisness when she had no right to. Fuck Kiera for making him hope. Because hoping was for idiots and Mickey was never crazy bright, but he wasn't an idiot and he had never been stupid enough to hope before. So fuck her.

Ian walked back in looking so calm and unfazed that Mickey wanted to scream at him until his lungs gave in.

"Mickey, sh-"

"Get out," he barked, staring at Ian hard, daring him to fucking defy him, wanting him to even, just so he could shout and curse and lose it because he felt like he was going to throw up or collapse or some shit and the room felt like it was caving in around him and he needed to vent. His rage threatened to explode from beneath his skin as Ian began to walk up to him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, like he was simply stating a fact. "She just needs time to process it."

"Get the fuck out!" his voice ws teetering on the edge of yelling as he took a step closer to him. He hated that Ian looked fearless, totally unafraid of Mickey as he stood there completely still. Mickey got right up in his face. "Get the FUCK out!"

"Or what? You'll hit me?"

Mickey clenched his fists and jaw then pushed Ian against the front door with such force that his back hit it with a loud bang and Ian grunted, his face screwing up in pain. He pinned him there with the hand that now held a fistful of his grey t-shirt. He fucking hated that he knew he wouldn't hit Ian, not in this way. When they messed around their hits weren't meant to do any real damage and when they argued they pushed and shoved but never hit. Mickey wasn't going to start now. "Don't fucking make me say it again," he warned.

Ian sighed deeply. "Mandy isn't gonna do anything," he whispered, his voice too soft, too calm for the current situation. It contrasted horribly with Mickey's.

"How the fuck would you know, huh? Oh. What, 'cause your family don't give a shit that you're a fag?" he laughed wickedly, a nasty smile flickering over his face for no more than a second. "Fucking spare me. You're Gallaghers! You could go all fucking Ted Bundy and they'd still stand by you!" He smiled sarcastically. "'Cause that's what you Gallaghers do," he said, mocking the guy whos' shirt he was still gripping. His face dropped again. "You got a fucking sack of shit, alcoholic dad who doesn't do a single fucking thing for you that you let crash on your floor whenever he wants. Your batshit, psycho mom, who abandoned you, rolls into town and you let her fucking set up camp in your house like nothing's wrong." He was saying too much, but he couldn't stop, he couldn't shut himself just like he couldn't drag his eyes away from Ian's. "You wanna know what Milkovichs do? Milkovichs fuck up their lives and when they're done, they fuck up other peoples' lives. It don't matter who they are! We don't care! And we don't love with hugs, but fists and we're no fucking good!" His chest hurt, his eyes hurt but it wasn't the kind of pain that could distract him.

Ian shook his head. "That's bullshit and you know it. Do you think Mandy's off to tell your dad and brothers? Seriously Mickey?" Their faces were so close that Mickey could feel Ian's hot breath on his lips as he spoke and he didn't want to think about why he didn't want that to stop.

"I don't fucking know! And neither do you so stop acting like you know me and you know Mandy because you don't know shit, alright!" The tension between them was palpable and their chests heaved in time together. Mickey pulled Ian away from the door then opened it. "Get. Out," he demanded and he really wasn't fucking around.

Ian began to laugh but it wasn't nice laughter and it made Mickey wary because he didn't think he'd ever seen him look so angry. "I thought you'd actually changed," he said, smiling then letting his face fall, walking slowly towards the door, "I thought you'd grown a pair and stopped being such a fucking pussy," he snarled quietly once he was close to Mickey.

Gripping the door, Mickey scoffed sarcastically. "Well, guess you were wrong, so why don't you run the fuck along, deal with your family and their million problems and I'll deal with mine," and with that he shoved Ian out the door and slammed it shut. He punched his fists against it over and over until they started turning red and he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't want to turn around; he didn't want to see her face.

"Stop," Kiera whispered in a way Mickey didn't understand; in a way that actually got him to stop then face her. She was half naked, just like always, her petite body as pale as Mickey's and sometimes he thought that was wall they had in common. After a few seconds of staring, she cupped his cheek but he didn't want to be touched, didn't want to be calmed down. What he did want was to get one of the bottle of vodka they had, down it and then go out and get into a fight because he needed to forget for a while and the only way he knew how was to feel pain. Even when he was younger and his family were stressing him out and after his mum died and after the first time his dad hit him hard enough to bruise, he'd either go into his room and attack his wall or go out and purposely annoy someone so that all he could feel were fists hitting against his body, bones breaking beneath his own, because he always hit back harder, and all he could feel was adrenaline pumping through him.

He jerked his head away and made for the kitchen and in that moment the sound of little feet following him was the worst thing he'd ever heard. Just as he opened the cupboard where they kept their liquor, it was closed shut and when he went to open it again, Kiera kept her hand gripped tightly around the handle so that he couldn't. She was strong, too strong for such a small person, Mickey thought and whenever she showed her physical strength, it creeped him out. "Get out the fucking way," he said with a huff because he was really fucking tired of her already.

"Why did you do that?"

Sarcastically, he smiled at her then rubbed his face. "What? Get out a glass?"

"Don't make jokes. Why did you do that?" she repeated, her voice calm, casual like it always fucking was.

Mickey could feel his anger builind up again. "Fuck off and move," he said, his teeth gritted and his hold on the glass tightening.

Of course she didn't, Mickey knew she wouldn't and laughed for a half a second for even telling her to in the first place. She was stubborn like that. The reasoning behind why he wasn't moving, why he stayed and stared back at her was a mystery to him.

Ever so slightly, she moved closer to him. "After all you've been through, this is how you react to Mandy, your own sister, finding out? You don't need to do this, you don't need to run from this and you don't need to be scared"

"What the fuck would you know about it?" he yelled as he threw the glass down onto the kitchen floor behind him, shattering it. "How the fuck would you know what I need to do?" He shouted in her face.

Kiera didn't flinch, she didn't even blink or react in any way and Mickey frowned at her. "I know because I spent months and months talking to you about it and I saw how fucking angry and sad you were about the whole situation because you didn't think you could make it right. I know because I look at you now and can see how different you are to when I first met you. I know because I see you and Ian together and you fit and he makes you smile and you make him smile in return and what's more, you _want_ to make him smile." Her eyes never once left his and she spoke with such conviction that Mickey didn't think he could question what she was saying.

Her voice, her words, were too much and he couldn't hold onto the slither of self control he had left. Without thinking it through, he pushed her against the fridge and raised his fist, his eyes wide and crazed. Again, she didn't flinch at all and Mickey thought that was weird, even for her, because even he flinched slightly when a fist was aimed at him if he wasn't ready for it. But that was just it: she seemed ready, like she was used to having people raise their fists at her, comfortable with it.

Mickey looked her hard in the eyes and saw no fear in them. He dropped his hand by his side and took a step back. How could he hit her? He'd never hit her and it had nothing to do with the fact that he didn't hit girls.

A fist connected with his cheek, startling him completely, and before he had a chance to react he was spun around and pinned up against the fridge, Kiera's forearm pressing against his chest with strength, that even now after being slapped and punched crazy hard by her, surprised him. "If you ever raise your fist at me again, you'd better knock me out." Her tone was calm and steady and her face expressionless, somehow making her threat all the more intense. She let go and slowly walked away, saying something about giving Ian his stuff back.

His cheek hurt, like really fucking hurt. He hadn't been punched that hard in a long time and he'd have been impressed if he wasn't still so angry. Angry at everything and really nothing at all. The glass on the floor had shattered so hard that there were tons of tiny pieces of it scattered around and that was how Mickey was. There were parts of him, miniscule parts of him scattered around every place he'd ever been to, every street he'd walked down and every house he'd stepped inside. Some of them were hidden in cracks on the pavement, under tables and in the corners of rooms where they would never be found. They would stay there, untouched and unknown forever. Other parts were right in front of him or took a couple of days, months, years to find, but he found them. He would never be whole, he'd always be missing fragments of himself because he couldn't bare to look for what was hidden; he couldn't bare to know himself wholly for fear of what he'd find out.

"Fuck," he sighed, finally taking the time to think about what he'd done. He tiptoed out of the kitchen, careful not to stand on any glass, then went out back. He sat down on the grass and didn't think he'd ever actually done that before. When he was younger, the garden was always a mess: the grass overgrown, random bits of pipe and parts of car engines littering it along with empty beer bottles. Now that Kiera had moved in and the people mainly responsible for the mess had moved out, it was kept nice and tidy and Mickey quite liked it. He layed back with his arms behind his head and looked up at the clear sky getting lost in it. He got lost in thoughts about Ian and his face and how his skin felt to touch and how his nose scrunched up when he smiled sometimes. He got lost in Ian and he didn't know it, but Mickey would never find his way out.

Mickey didn't know how long he had been out there, switching between keeping his eyes closed shut and staring up at the sky, but when Kiera sat down beside him, two cigarettes in hand, the sun was beginning to set. She handed him one as she lay beside him.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

Mickey looked over at her for a second and scoffed. "Yeah, it fuckin' hurts," he mumbled, blowing out smoke into the air kind of wishing that she'd brought out a joint with her.

"Good."

He looked at her again and she looked back, smiling and it reminded him of the times they had in that damn anger management class. The world was moving, people were living and talking all around them, yet it only seemed like it was the two of them there. It was oddly comforting.

"I'm not sorry," she said bluntly. "You needed someone to hit you. Oh. I also meant what I said about raising your fist at me."

Mickey knew that and so he didn't say anything back, just watched her watch him. He nodded before taking another drag on his cigarette and blowing it in her face playfully because Mickey didn't do apologies, not properly, but he hoped that'd be enough. Not that she seemed mad at him anyway but he knew he had crossed a line.

She did the same back to him and smiled wide then lifted his arm and put it around her neck, holding his hand. He hated his hand being held because it made him think of his mom. He didn't tell her that and he didn't free his hand from hers because maybe if he held on long enough, holding hands could start to remind him of Kiera. They stayed there for a long time, the silence weighing heavy between them until Kiera broke it. "Do you regret it?" she asked, speaking in a hushed tone, like it was a secret.

There was no need for her to be specific about what, Mickey knew she wasn't talking about the days' events. "No," he sighed out, hating that answer, wishing it was a 'yes'.

She nodded against him. "Then you'll do it again. You will find a way to get him back to you again."

_No_, he thought, _not this time. _"He's not dumb to forgive me for the fuckin' second time."

"Mickey." And that made him freeze where he was because she had never said his name before, at least not to him. It sounded so strange coming out of her mouth and he didn't like it. He didn't want her to ever say his name again. It felt like she was saying more than just that, she was saying too much with that one word. "Hold on," she whispered, letting go of his hand and stroking his cheek.

_Fuck, this is intense_, he thought whilst he looked down at his feet and hoped the conversation was nearing it's end.

Suddenly, she stood up and looked down at him with raised brows. She bent down and put her hands on her knees. "I'll cook you something, darling" she said, sweetly, smiling wide.

Mickey stood and shook his head at her. "Damn basket case," he muttered under his breath, walking past her. It earned him a slap on the ass which hurt even more down to the fact that Mickey was still only in his boxers.

Kiera cooked them some pasta dish that Mickey didn't know the name of even thought she had told him about five times whenever he moaned "Jesus, this is good, what is it?". They watched one of the The Lord Of The Rings films because Kiera wanted to and he had to admit that the films were pretty good and, like she always did, Kiera mouthed her favourite lines as they were spoken. She fell asleep beside him and he carried her to her bedroom. He smiled at the ceiling like he always did because he found it funny that it was covered in posters instead of the walls, then gently dropped her onto the bed and put a blanket over her.

It was late now, but he was still up, sat on his bed with his back against the wall and he didn't think it was for any particular reason but then he heard the front door open and someone walk in he knew exactly why he was still up. He was waiting for her.

Mandy walked straight into his room, no knock or anything. Standing there infront of his door she stared at him. "I'm not mad that you're gay," she finally said, "I'm mad that you didn't tell me."

Mickey looked at her and hated how she looked; it brought back a lot of memories he'd much rather forget. "Why the fuck would I?" he asked, and he didn't mean for it to sound so harsh. It wasn't like he was asking why the fuck he'd tell her specifically because she's his sister, but why the fuck he'd tell her because she's a person he knows.

She shrugged, looking down at her feet. "I don't know, we kinda tell each other stuff. Like I tell you when I get with guys and if they were hot or dumb or whatever." It was true, Mandy did tell him a lot of shit about guys, most of which he didn't want to hear at all, but he listened anyway because she'd want him to and seemed to like telling him stuff. Plus it meant he knew who to fuck up if he found her crying. "So is Ian the first guy you been with?" she asked, taking a step closer to the bed.

"Jesus, I'm not answering that." Mickey shifted uncomfortably where he sat.

"It's only fair," she sat down at the end of his bed. "You kept this from me all this time you dick, so we're gonna talk."

"No," he snapped, crossing his legs.

"Is that you saying no to talking or no to the question?"

Mickey exhaled loudly and looked at her wishing, not for the first time in his life, that his sister was a little brighter. "No to the fuckin' question," he ground out. He wanted her to get the fuck out and he felt like telling her to, but he knew he couldn't because she deserved better than that and Mickey wasn't much, but he'd always been a good brother to her and he didn't feel like stopping anytime soon.

Her eyes were wide and she had a hint of a smile on her face when she moved up the bed so that she was beside him. "Shit, really?" she laughed out. "So you're like gay gay?"

"Fuck me," he muttered to himself, chewing on his thumb nail.

"He a good fuck?" she asked with a cheeky smile, seeming to be enjoying the conversation far more than Mickey was.

"Fuck off," he said, shaking his head a little. He looked at her whilst she laughed and couldn't help smiling at the site of her. They looked at each other for a moment then he lifted his arm up and she got under it, hugging him.

"I wouldn't have ever told dad or anyone, y'know?" she whispered.

He did know that. He'd known that for years. "Yeah, I know."

"You actually looked pretty cute together."

"Mandy?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up." There was no cruelty in his voice and Mandy laughed against him, hugging him tighter. Silence descended around them and Mickey leaned his head against hers. It reminded him of the times when they were younger and their parents would be drunkenly arguing, so Mandy'd tiptoe into Mickey's room where he'd be up, sat against the wall waiting for her - like he had been doing before she walked in. She would cuddle up to him and he'd hold her close just like he was doing then.

"I love you," she whispered.

"Love you, too," he whispered back and those words would stay in the room forever.


	24. Chapter 24

**I feel the need to say that La Dispute have basically, somehow, inspired these last four chapter so I figured I'd give them a little mention. And to anyone who's never heard of them, they're a rock/ kinda screamo band who have amazing lyrics, just so you don't think Mickey's listening to sappy, cute music.**

There had been a few days that Mickey spent primarily in his room, only leaving for work, to get food from the kitchen or to buy more cigarettes. It wasn't because he was depressed - Mandy and Kiera had already decided that he was, despite him telling them about twenty fucking times that he wasn't - it was that he only really ever left his room before to hang out with Ian and he wasn't hanging out with him now that they weren't speaking. That was how he kept referring to the situation - they weren't speaking, or fucking for that matter - and had even had a full blown discussion with Lip about it because the guy was pretty sure that he and Ian had in fact broken up. Mickey did not agree. It felt sort of strange to have Lip hanging around even more than he did before now that he and Kiera were together. Mickey half expected him to punch him or something for upsetting his brother, but he didn't. All Lip had done was roll his eyes at him and tell him to "hurry the fuck up and make up with Ian" because he couldn't take his brooding and blasting out music at eight o'clock in the morning. That made Mickey smirk. Gallagher always was a little on the dramatic side. Mickey figured he got it from his mom.

Admittedly, Mickey missed Ian, he'd gladly tell anyone that asked that he didn't because he didn't give a shit about lying to other people, but thought it was dumb to lie to himself. It wasn't just the sex he missed - not that he didn't miss that _a lot _but Mickey was always horny as fuck, surprisingly, Ian actually beat him when it came to horniness. He missed Ian's face, he missed the feel of him beneath his hands, he missed the way his nose would scrunch up when he laughed sometimes and fuck did he miss his voice, especially when it dropped low when he was turned on. But it was normal to miss someone that you used to spend almost every day with when you hadn't seem them for a week, right? Mickey kept telling himself that. He kept telling himself that missing someone didn't make him a total fag.

Okay, so Mickey was a bit of a mess, but he wasn't depressed. And as he laid there on the couch watching the tv that he couldn't hear over the music he was listening to, he ignored the way Mandy and Kiera looked at him and his sister telling him to get back with Ian because he was pissing her off. What he didn't ignore was Kiera changing the song to one she liked to sing particularly loud in the morning when she had stolen his CD.

He huffed when she sat on his ass and rolled his eyes when she began reciting the opening of the song as it started.

"You still cross my mind from time to time, and I mostly smile. Still set on finding out where we went wrong and why. So I retrace our every step with an unsure pen, trying to figure out what my head thinks, but my head just ain't what it used to be. And then again, what's the point anyway?" She drummed her fingers against his back when the music properly kicked in and he wondered why she'd had stopped singing, though with La Dispute it was more like speaking to music. Then she started up again. "I remember when you leaned in quick to kiss me, and I swear, not a single force on Earth could stop the trembling of my hand." She stopped again and waited. "... and how we wasted all the best of us in alcohol and sweat."

He turned his head more to the side so he could look at her and once he saw the smirk on her face he knew exactly what she was doing. The bitch.

She stared at him. "I still remember how we held on so strong to this though we had never really settled on a way out." She stopped again and waited and Mickey wanted to slap that fucking smug grin off her face because she knew he knew that she was only singing the lyrics that related to he and Ian and it so wasn't even remotely funny. "I still remember how it all came back together, just to fall apart again." And when she started screaming out "I've been alone here, I've been alone here, I've been afraid, my dear, I've been afraid, my dear" he shoved her off of him and onto the floor so he could stand and he almost smirked at the way she carried on her screaming, but didn't.

He switched off the stereo and stared at her. "Anybody ever tell you you're not even a little funny?" he asked her, shaking his head slightly.

Standing up, Kiera smoothed out the creases of her patterned skirt, Mickey thought the patterns looked like retarded horses. "No, because the people I hang around with tend to tell the truth," she retorted, that same grin on her face as she turned the stereo back on and waited for whatever line she wanted to sing.

Mickey walked out into the kitchen and knew she was following him. He got a beer out of the fridge and opened the bottle with his teeth and spat the cap at her.

She just laughed and decided that the next line was relevant. "I held your name inside my heart but it got buried in my fear. It tore the wiring of my brain, I did my best to keep it clear. So dear, no matter how we part, I hold you sweetly in my head. And if I do not miss a part of you, a part of me is dead." She stopped and the two of them stared at each other as the song went on and then finished.

Quickly, Mickey took a swig of his beer then thumbed the moisture from the corner of his mouth. "Done?" he asked, hoping to fucking God she was because even though Kiera was actually a good singer, he was annoyed.

She pretended to ponder that thought before nodding. She scurried away to turn the music down and answer the door. Stupidly for a second, Mickey wondered if it was Ian before remembering. It was the older Gallagher brother that followed Kiera back into the kitchen, his hands gripping her hips and his mouth attached to her neck. If the two of them were in the same room, they'd constantly be touching like they simply couldn't get enough and Mickey swore that when they fucked they moaned and grunted and whined extra loud to get back at him for having done the same with Ian. It would've been funny if it weren't so messed up.

Lip looked up at him and smirked, holding Kiera against him. "Hey, so you're coming with us to the ice cream truck?"

Mickey frowned in confusion and said "no" at the same time as Kiera said "yes". She'd obviously told Lip that Mickey had already agreed or something and he scowled at her because she was being ten times more annoying than usual. She went on a bit of a rant when Mickey protested, saying he needed to get out of the house and be around people and have fun and blah-fucking-blah. He knew she'd keep on going until he agreed and that's how he ended up being the third fucking wheel as they walked to meet Kevin who was working the truck at some park.

Mickey was close to expressing his older brother protective streak when Lip lifted Kiera up and put her over his shoulder, his hand splayed across her ass. No, Kiera wasn't his sister and she was actually a couple of months older than him, but he still felt the need to beat the shit out of anyone who crossed her. Not that she'd need help in that department, but still.

Hunching his shoulders, Mickey dug his hands into his pockets awkwardly when they got there and nodded at Kev when he said hi. He didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do there and he wasn't about to start selling shit. He followed Kiera and Lip inside and it was kind of cramped and uncomfortable and Mickey found himself daydreaming about his bed because it was his fucking day off work and he should have been nursing a hangover or watching shitty tv. Instead he sat in the passengers seat next to Lip who sat in the drivers seat checking on that thing he'd made to see if the cops were nearby or some shit. Mickey thought it was pretty cool.

He shook his head, turning down the joint Lip offered him and saw the questioning look he was being given. "Fuck off, just not in the mood," he said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders and looking out the window at the bunch of rowdy kids that had just rolled up.

"Christ, are you lovesick," Lip said, chuckling.

Sometimes, Mickey really loathed the fact that Lip was so comfortable with him being gay and that he'd been fucking his brother. It crossed his mind more than a few times that maybe it would actually be easier if Lip had a problem with it because then he wouldn't make his little jokes and comments. Mickey could handle hate a lot easier than acceptance. Came with being a Milkovich.

Mickey glowered then looked across at Lip. He swiped the joint from his fingers, figuring if he was going to be spending the day here, weed would actually make it slightly more bearable. It certainly wasn't Kiera's weed, Mickey could tell straight away because she got crazy strong stuff that had you high in seconds. Mickey took a couple more drags then handed it back to Lip who was smirking down at his lap. "What?" Mickey barked, watching him take a long drag then blow out smoke rings.

Lip shook his head and smiled. "I just never thought I'd be hoping Mickey Milkovich would go back to sticking it in my brother," he said simply, then took another drag, "or my brother going back to sticking it in Mickey Milkovich, I'm not too sure- Ow, shit!" Lip cried out when Mickey punched him in the balls. Lip's head fell against the steering wheel as a hand went down to protect his crotch. "That one of your kinks?" he groaned, because he just didn't know when to shut up.

"It fuckin' will be if you don't shut your damn mouth," Mickey grumbled, putting his feet up on the dashboard and crossing his arms.

Eventually, he began to relax. Only he wasn't relaxed enough to actively engage in any form of conversation with anyone. Mostly, he still wanted to go home because he'd probably be doing somthing very similar to what he was doing now, only difference being he'd be in the comfort of his own room. He also wouldn't have to deal with Kiera popping her head round the corner every five minutes asking if he was okay. That being said, she still did that at home but when it annoyed him too much he moved his drawers in front of the door so that she couldn't come in. He couldn't do that now. Instead he stuck his middle finger up at her every time. He didn't get why her and Mandy were acting like he'd said he was going to fucking off himself or something because he hadn't and why the fuck would he? Because he wasn't getting fucked on a regular basis by someone he actually kind of liked a little bit sort of? Mickey wasn't heartbroken, he wasn't lovesick or depressed he wasn't anything but pissed off with himself. More so than usual. But of course Mickey couldn't explain that because a) he didn't know the words that would make sense of how he felt and b) he'd risk sounding like an idiot who was pining after Ian.

An argument started up between Kiera and what Mickey assumed was probably some ten year old kid trying to convince her and Kev that they were fourteen - Kev had this thing about not selling beer or pot to anyone younger than that, Mickey thought it was dumb. He wasn't really paying attention to any of it but when he heard, and felt, someone kick the side of the truck he and Lip spun their heads around.

Kev gave Mickey an expectant look and so he got up and stood beside Kiera, looking down at the junkie who was demanding they give him some acid because apparently he knew they were selling it and wouldn't leave until they handed it over. As soon as the guy saw Mickey his face dropped and he scratched at his stubbly cheek. Mickey leaned down on the counter and almost retracted his head back as soon as he stuck it out because the stench wafting from the junkie was almost enough to turn Mickey's stomach. He didn't though, because that wouldn't have been threatening at all, instead he stared at the guy as he jittered about and told him to fuck off and go to his dealer. The junkie soon scampered away and Mickey went back to where he was sat, smirking to himself. That had been fun. He hadn't used the fact that he was a Milkovich to scare people off in a while. In fact, he hadn't done hardly anything particularly Milkovich since he'd gotten out of juvie: had only been in one drunken fight that had lasted no more than thirty seconds, had only stolen a handful of things because Ian had a fucking bitch fit when he stole an iPhone. He didn't know if he missed it or not but was pleased that people still feared him. Sometimes, it was all he thought he had.

The rest of the day went by pretty quickly and they moved the truck just once when Lip's contraption began to go off. Randomly, Kev handed him a cold beer as he sat down in the drivers seat and let Lip and Kiera serve people. Kev wiped the condensation on his black t-shirt and sighed, sounding content. "Thanks for dealing with that junkie earlier, fucking idiot, who in their right mind would sell acid from an ice cream truck?" Kev said, genuinely confused.

Mickey scoffed. "It's cool," he said then took a swig of beer.

Mickey found Kev really funny, which was a rarity, and pretty chilled, too. They spoke about the truck and buisness and Kev asked him about juvie then explained how he and Vee were going about adopting a baby. They continued their conversation as Kev drove the truck back to wherever the hell he kept it, Mickey wasn't paying any attention to where they drove too.

All four of them then headed back to Mickey and Kiera's because she had forgotten to bring the weed she had bought that they were going to sell for a higher price. And they were about to go up the stairs to the house when someone shouted "so this is the dump you're calling home now, huh?"

They all turned to see a guy probably a few years older than Mickey, stood there, his arms crossed over his bare, tanned chest and his white t-shirt tucked into the back pocket of his tight, denim jeans. His light brown hair was long and he had it tied up in a little ponytail like Kev's and he had a beer bottle in one hand, taking a couple of swigs from it. Mickey thought he looked like a skater or some shit, but he didn't recognise him and Lip's face said the same. He was about to ask Kiera if she knew him but then she moved. She pushed past Kev and walked straight up to the guy, so that her face was no more than a couple of inches away from his and the two of them stayed like that: standing, staring. And Mickey had no idea what the hell was going on but he knew he didn't like it. He didn't like the way the guy had spoken and he certainly didn't like the way he was sneering.

Kiera made like she was going to walk away but upon hearing the guy scoff she turned back around and head butted him, her face expressionless the entire time. The rest of them shouted out various curses in shock as the guy fell to the ground clutching his nose which was most probably broken. Kiera walked back to them and didn't look like she was even remotely in pain and smiled a little.

"The fuck? Kiera who was that?" Lip asked, looking at her with worried eyes.

She looked back at the guy who was still on the floor on his back, groaning in pain, then back at Lip, but she spoke to Mickey, he could tell. "That's the guy I put in hospital, Seth. Oh, we also have the same parents." There was no resemblance between the two of them. Not a sinlge similarity in how they looked and Mickey thought that the differences between the siblings probably ran a lot deeper than that. Kiera looked at Mickey hopefully and he knew why. When her face fell and she continued looking at him over Lip's shoulder as he hugged her, the message had been received.

From the moment the guy, Seth, had looked at Kiera with disdain, he'd wanted to do some damage and now that he'd heard who it was and he'd been given that look, Mickey charged over to Seth just as he was starting to get up and kicked him down again then rested his foot, not so gently, against his throat. Seth groaned, gasping and looked up at Mickey, his lower face red from the blood that had poured from his nose. Mickey could see it was broken. Smirking nastily, Mickey pushed his foot down and spoke. "You come near her again, and I won't hesitate for a second to kill you," he snarled, bent down so he was closer and his foot pressed even harder against him.

Vaguely, he heard someone, he thought maybe Lip, say something. It was probably to stop or to walk away. Mickey didn't care. He stared down for a couple of seconds, enjoying how terrified Seth looked beneath him, before taking his foot off of him and making the mistake of turning around.

"Mickey!" Kiera and Kev shouted at the same time.

Something smashed against his head and he stumbled forward a few steps, Kiera catching him in her arms as Kev and Lip ran forwards after Seth who had scurried away as soon as he'd hit Mickey.

"Did he just fuckin' bottle me?" Mickey asked, feeling blood trickle over his ear and neck.

Holding his biceps, Kiera's panicked eyes went back and forth between his bleeding head and his face. "Oh. Oh, God, are you okay? Mickey, are you okay?" She was squeezing his arms and breathing hard.

"Yes, Christ, just let me sit down," he said to all three of them as they fussed over him. He sat on the bottom step leading up to his house and clutched his head because getting bottled fucking hurt. His head was spinning and he took off his t-shirt to press against where he was bleeding.

Kiera knelt down in front of him. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. Come on, we'll take you to the hospital or-"

"Fuck off, go to a hospital. I haven't lost a damn arm," he complained, the pain intensifying.

Lip and Kev were behind her. "Come back to mine, Vee's there, she'll fix you you up," Lip said, looking concerned himself.

Reluctantly, Mickey stood, stumbling. His free arm was taken into Kiera's hands and he shrugged Lip's hand off his shoulder because he could fucking walk without assistance.

It should have only taken them a couple of minutes to get to the Gallagher's, but walking at a normal pace made Mickey feel like he was going to throw up, so he opted for slowly shuffling his feet. At last, they arrived and Mickey grumbled to himself because the younger Gallaghers got out of the pool and followed them in, asking Lip what had happened like they'd never seen someone bleeding before. Mickey found that highly unlikely.

A chair was pulled away from the kitchen table and he sat in it, frowning as Kiera shouted for Vee who came rushing in with Fiona, Jimmy and fucking Ian who looked ridiculous in his tight t-shirt and fucking tight jeans. Mickey kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

Vee barked orders at Lip about getting bandages or something like that. Then she pulled up a chair beside him and lifted his hand away from his head to examine the damage. Mickey knew it wasn't that bad; bottling looked worse than it was. It was all the blood. She winced a bit. "Somebody get me a cloth and some water," she said. His chin was taken in her hand and she looked deep into his eyes.

"The fuck are you doing?" he asked, frowning at her.

"Checking your damn pupils, keep still," she snapped, holding his chin even tighter as he tried to wriggle free.

Fiona sat down at the table opposite them. "What the hell happened?"

Kiera took a loud, deep breath and Mickey had never seen her like this; she'd totally lost her cool. "It was my, it was my brother, I-I head butted him and, and then Mickey went over and I don't know he just fucking bottled him and-and-" She was flustered; stammering and speaking with her hands. She'd never done that before.

"Kiera!" Mickey shouted, the loudness hurting his head.

She looked him then nodded and seemed to calm down when Lip came back in with medical supplies.

Vee began taking out bandages and wipes and Mickey was finding the whole situation real fucking dumb. If he had been out on his own or with Mandy he'd have just gone home, washed up and left it at that. Now he was playing the fucking patient. Vee wiped his head clean then began to rip the bandages from their packaging. "Seriously? Fuckin' bandage?" Mickey groaned, hoping someone would give him some Advil already.

Raising her eyebrows at him, Vee gave him an unimpressed look. "You wanna fuckin' bleed to death?"

The speed in which she spoke made Mickey smirk. "Yeah, I don't think that's fuckin' likely," he leaned back in the chair, "You even a real nurse?"

"Mickey," someone said sternly. He knew it was Ian before he looked towards the stairs where he was sat. For a long time, too long, they looked at each other, neither of them moving or thinking. They simply looked. They looked because it had been a week too long since they'd last laid eyes on each other. Grudgingly, he looked away and let Vee finish her Good Samaritan work but the second she left the room he pulled off the dumb as fuck bandage and ignored Kiera telling him to put it back on. He also ignored all the things Vee had told him, literally shutting off.

Ian lingered for a minute then stormed up the stairs and Mickey didn't know if he was glad about that but thought it was probably a good idea because he'd only end up saying something stupid that would piss the guy off or upset him. Mickey seemed to excel at that.

Three days later and Mickey still had a headache that painkillers didn't seem ease. If he were smarter or maybe a little less in denial, he'd have known that his head didn't hurt because he had been bottled. His head hurt because he spent every waking moment trying to keep his mind off of Ian. He concentrated so hard on everything he did just so that he didn't picture that redhead's face; he listened harder and worked harder because if he didn't he'd have lost and he'd have to accept the fact that this wasn't going to go away; that ache where he thought his heart should be wasn't going to vanish if he ignored it. But Mickey wasn't smarter and he was embedded in denial.


	25. Chapter 25

Ian didn't know why he was so surprised at the way Mickey reacted to Mandy finding out, but he was. It wasn't because he freaked out, Ian knew he would, but it was the fact that he got so angry at him. And when he walked home, his fists clenched and his mind racing, he thought back to the last time Mickey had trampled over his heart and hated how this hurt more. He knew Mickey had feelings for him - fuck what he said and didn't say, Mickey's actions would always speak louder than his words - and they had settled, they had become something, therefore there was something to be destroyed.

Lip had tried to cheer him up for days but Ian didn't need it, he didn't need any_thing._ At times, he felt like he was being completely self centred because all he thought about was Mickey and how they were together and how he made him feel. Everything else had lost it's appeal. He knew he was being pathetic and that his older siblings were only trying to help when they told him to cheer up and enjoy his summer, to go in the pool, to distract himself. And he would have done if he didn't also know that Mickey became totally irrational when he was scared. Christ, he was going to kill Frank because he was scared. Fear affected Mickey more than anything else. At least that was what Ian thought, and with that in mind he couldn't stop himself from thinking, hoping, that Mickey didn't honestly want him to go. And yeah, Mickey's words weren't particularly nice and he didn't want to hear them again, but they weren't half as bad as those he'd heard before. All Mickey had done was tell Ian to leave and that he didn't know him. He put himself down more than he put Ian down which he thought said something.

Still, even though Mickey may not have been thinking straight and may not have even meant any of it, it hurt. Because how could it not? Ian was smitten. He didn't like to think that he was, but he was. Completely and utterly.

His feelings were constantly contradicting but it was unintentional. He both hated and needed Mickey.

And when he saw Mickey hurt and bleeding in his kitchen, for a second, he was about to run up to him and act like nothing had changed, nothing had been ruined. Except it had, so he didn't. He kept his distance and fought the impulse to kiss and punch him at the same time. Ian knew that Mickey was purposely looking at the floor so as to not look at him because sometimes, despite his best efforts, Mickey was really obvious. But when their eyes did meet, Ian forgot and remembered everything and absolutely nothing at all. He got lost and didn't ever want to be found again. Then too soon, Mickey looked away.

For the most part, Ian missed the company that came with being with Mickey. He missed his house, his bedroom and he missed Kiera and Mandy and Louis and, weirdly, he missed Lip. Because Lip was finally with Kiera, thus spent most of his time with her at her house. He'd been invited by the two of them and Mandy to go over but he always declined. It would have been too strange and besides Mickey had made no attempts to make things right so it would have been all kinds of awkward.

Which was why he was being dragged, almost literally, to a party Kiera was having. It wasn't to celebrate anything but people in his neigborhood always had parties for no good reason other than to get wasted. Which was always a good enough reason.

"Look, just stay with me and Kiera, it'll be fine," Lip told him for the twentieth time as they walked up the stairs to Mickey's house.

Ian rolled his eyes and replied. "Right, because the two of you aren't who Mickey's gonna be with the whole time?" He shook his head, putting his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. "This is so fuckin' pointless," he muttered to himself as they walked in.

There were a lot of people there that Ian didn't recognise. Kiera was like a social butterfly and had made friends with everyone somehow. But Ian spotted Mickey straight away, which wasn't difficult because he was sat on the couch beside Kiera.

Their eyes met for a split second before Ian looked down at his feet, his jaw clenching.

Kiera jumped up from where she was and after kissing Lip for what seemed like days, she cupped Ian's cheek and gave him that same look she'd given him the first time they'd met. It worried him and he sighed with relief when she let go and told the two of them to follow her into the kitchen. Ian didn't miss the way Mickey subtley stared, though he wished he had done.

Mandy was being cute and couple-y with Louis and once he'd opened his beer, Ian turned to find Lip and Kiera making out. Again. One of her hands sliding up his shirt and one of his was running the risk of exposing her ass to everyone it was travelling so far up her skirt. Ian sighed, about ready to vacate what appeared to be the 'couples area' when Mandy grabbed his hand and hurried him to one corner.

"Okay, you have to, fucking _have to_ make up with Mickey, alright?" she said, well, demanded. Her eyes weren't caked in the usual blackness and Ian suddenly realised how alike she and Mickey looked.

He shook his head a little, out of his daze. "I haven't done anything wrong. Why don't you tell him to make up with me?" Along with telling him to distract himself, his older siblings and friends had also taken to telling him to make it right with Mickey, get back together with him and various other variations that all meant the same thing. But the ball wasn't in his court this time. It wasn't in his court the last time but he was still the one to move it. He was getting tired of people assuming it'd be him to do it again just because Mickey sucked at communicating.

Nodding, Mandy chuckled at her feet. "Don't you think I have? And not just me but Kiera and Lip, even Louis after he got over my brother threatening to kill him and his entire family if he told which he so wouldn't do 'cause the guy couldn't kill Frank so, y'know, and he's a piece of shit" she digressed, "Anyway, the point is he is pissing me off so much, like I can't take his brooding anymore, it's crazy."

Ian tried to hide his smile, but judging from Mandy's laughter, he had failed. "Just, I don't know, he's all I have and it fucking sucks seeing him like this. Even though he denies that he gives a shit," she shook her head, "the idiot," she muttered under her breath.

Not knowing what to say, Ian settled for a nod and a smile. It seemed to be enough because Mandy went back to Louis who had the face of a kicked puppy ever since she walked 5ft away from him.

The kitchen seemed to be the place where the only people Ian knew, and a few others, were going to spend their time and Ian wasn't one to mingle amongst people he didn't know on his own. That of course meant being in a confined space with Mickey and this guy that couldn't keep his eyes off either of them. Neither Ian nor Mickey believed in the whole gaydar thing but the knowing glance they shared told Ian that Mickey was thinking the exact same thing: this guy was gay, like Queer As Folk gay. It crossed his mind that he could so easily make Mickey jealous if he wanted to, but he thought it was probably best he didn't judging by the way he had reacted when Ian told him he had run into Kash. Ian didn't think he'd ever forget the face he pulled. Mickey was weirdly hot when he got jealous. Quickly, he tried to think of something else but Mickey was smirking at him and he had missed that. Missed the way he smirked at things only the two of them got or found funny. Sure, Mickey may have been brooding and whatever, but so was Ian. There wasn't a single thing that he didn't miss about the guy, including the things that annoyed him and made them argue. Ian missed it all. But he had meant what he said to Mandy - he wasn't going to make the first move, he wasn't going to apologise for anything. If Mickey was genuinely sorry, he would bite back his pride and say so.

Eventually, Ian began to enjoy himself, the beers he had consumed definitely helped. And Kiera was even more entertaining when she was drunk than when she was high. She turned up the stereo that was playing some heavy metal song that she clearly only knew half the words to, yet still insisted on belting it out as loud as she could. Lip stopped her from climbing atop the table and let her climb onto his back. Ian smiled at the sight of them because they really did look perfect together. Jealousy ran through him like it did every time he saw them together, but it ran alongside happiness. Jealousy and happiness: that's what Ian always felt when he thought about his brother.

Ian regretted, like really and truly regretted letting his brother talk him into taking shots. Especially as he didn't even know what the hell it was and especially because they were body shots off some random, incredibly slutty, girl that Ian didn't know. She forced him into a kiss then let him go, stumbling backwards into Mickey. Ian was kind of really drunk. He had been before the shots but he could already feel them heightening his buzz. And he knew Mickey was too because he had been laughing like an idiot when Ian had done his shots and looked confused but happy which was his drunk look.

No thought went into what he did next, his brain wasn't working as well as it would've been if he weren't so wasted and so he didn't stop himself from leaning forward and nuzzling into Mickey's neck, softly nosing at it. His arms were crossed against Mickey's chest and his legs between his. Mickey's only reaction was to place his hand that wasn't holding his beer on one of Ian's hips.

They looked more like a couple then than they ever had done, even though they weren't at that moment. Despite his state, Ian knew the only reason Mickey wasn't pushing him away was because the slutty girl was making out with some guy and the definitely gay guy had left along with everyone else who was invited because it was two in the morning and there was no alcohol left. The latter being the main reason.

"You fuckin' ass'ole," Ian slurred against Mickey's neck, uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around the guy's waist.

Mickey snorted then put his beer down on the counter. Now both his hands had a hold on Ian's hips and Ian's nosing soon turned into kissing, then biting and sucking. Mickey moaned quietly then sucked in his breath when Ian swirled his tongue around his pulse point.

Ian didn't know when Mickey's neck was replaced with his mouth but he wasted no time; sticking his tongue straight into Mickey's mouth and his arms up around his neck. If Ian had been sober, or even just a little less drunk, he wouldn't be doing this and if he was, he wouldn't be going so quick. He would savour it and drag it out. Instead he was grinding against Mickey and kissing him like the world was about to end.

He thought he heard Mandy laugh or gasp or something but it wasn't like he was paying much attention to her. Or anything, actually.

Mickey began pushing Ian backwards and used his hold on him to pull him toward his room. They staggered inside and before either of them could think or really do anything remotely wise, clothes were being shred and bodies were being kissed and bitten.

And Ian didn't have the ability to think that he'd regret this in the morning.


	26. Chapter 26

_Shit. Oh, shit, my head._ Ian couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. There was the most horrendous pounding sensation going on inside his head, like millions of animals were stampeding inside it. His throat was dry and he could just imagine how hoarse his voice was going to sound when he spoke. Rubbing his palms into his eyes, he sat up. Then he bolted upright because this wasn't his room, wasn't even his house. _Oh shit. Shit!_ This was Mickey's room and it was Mickey's bed he was sat on and yeah, he was as naked as he was the second he was born. Moments from last night slowly began to enter his mind: _there was singing, really loud, but not terrible, singing; at one point Kiera and Mandy made out because they lost beer pong which Lip and Louis thought was like the hottest thing ever, weird straight guys; shots, definitely shots of some kind and they weren't normal shots they were like, oh fuck, I did body shots; and then... _he looked down at Mickey. "Fuck," he whispered to himself, because suddenly he remembered kissing and grabbing and moaning and fucking. Great, so they fucked. And it would have been clumsy and loud so he wouldn't even be able to pretend like it didn't happen around the others.

Scrabbling for his clothes that were littered around the room, Ian did his best to stay quiet. This was already awkward, he didn't need to deal with Mickey, not that it was exactly easy to wake the guy up, but still.

He couldn't believe that they slept together, that he'd lost control like that. Whatever the hell those shots were was what he blamed. Really, it wasn't their fault. It was barely his fault. Or Mickey's. Neither of them chose to be so attracted to each other, it wasn't planned. Definitely wasn't planned. It just happened, like this had done. Still, Ian really wished it hadn't and wanted to get out of there as soon as he could.

Just as he was putting on his shoes, Mickey began to groan. "Fuck," he mumbled, startling Ian so that he froze, laces in hand. "What are you doin'?"

Ian kept his eyes on his foot. "I'm about to leave," he whispered, his voice just as croaky as he predicted. Leaving his laces partially untied, he stood up and turned to face Mickey, biting the inside of his cheek so that he didn't smile because, well, sleepy, adorable Mickey was looking up at him.

Mickey pulled the sheet up a little and rubbed his squinty eyes, confused. "Why?"

"Because..." he trailed off,"y'know, it's probably best if I do." Which wasn't really a reason. Except it was because Ian couldn't stay.

His hand was on the doorknob, about to turn it when Mickey asked why again. "Mickey we had drunken sex and that really wasn't supposed to happen." He turned around to look at him. "It shouldn't have happened." Ian was sure he saw a flicker of hurt on Mickey's face for a second before it hardened to its usual expression.

"Oh. Right, whatever," he muttered quickly, facing the wall.

Ian sighed at Mickey's refusal to talk things out. This was the perfect opportunity to and yet there he was, falling back asleep. Ian walked out and reached into his pocket. Empty. He reached into the other one and it was also empty.

Aggravated that he could no longer complete his plan for a quick getaway, he walked back into Mickey's bedroom. "Mickey, have you seen my..." he had been too busy looking around the messy floor to see that Mickey had stood up, thankfully with boxers on, and was holding his phone in hand. "Phone," he huffed out, smiling awkwardly. Mickey was staring at him, a real, deep stare and Ian couldn't look away. Ian didn't want to look away. Edging closer, Mickey closed off the gap between them. They were almost toe to toe; so close that the heat radiating from them intertwined; so close that Ian could feel Mickey's body though not a single part of them was touching. He could have taken his phone from Mickey's hand that was by his side and left. Something was stopping him or more likely, it was someone. It was Mickey and the way he didn't shift his eyes from his; it was the way he was gradually moving one hand to his neck.

Ian knew he shouldn't have moved his hand to Mickey's hip, but the way his neck was being gripped made his brain stop working. Made his eyes close and his lips press against Mickey's. There was an edge to the way Mickey was kissing him; it lacked brutality but it hurt. It hurt a place deep inside of him and, despite the pain, he couldn't stop. It was like when there's a film you already know is going to leave you feeling emotionally drained but you watch it anyway because that feeling you get is real and startling to the core. It leaves you breathless and speechless and completely addicted.

This wasn't how they kissed, it was neither rough and quick nor soft and gentle. Somehow, it was completely different; new. Ian didn't know why, couldn't think why, but he knew it was.

Then it hit him. This was Mickey's apology. The first time they had ever kissed was a physical representation of an apology and so was this. But Ian didn't want that. He was sick of Mickey being too afraid or embarrassed to voice his feelings and speak about things that needed to be spoken about. He was sick of being the one who wore his heart on his sleeve so that it could be broken whenever Mickey needed out. So he needed to stop this before he got completely taken.

With perhaps a little too much force, Ian pushed Mickey back, confusion flooding his face. Breathing hard, Ian battled to regain just a little composure, enough so that he could talk at least. And after a couple of seconds he did just that. "Drunken sex and a kiss isn't going to do it," he said clearly, precise.

Mickey rubbed his bottom lip then went back to chewing at it. Now, more than confused, he looked pissed off and Ian didn't expect anything else. Mickey didn't like it when people didn't do as he said or when things didn't go the way he wanted. In an oddly mature way, he was just like a kid.

Shuffling where he stood, Ian nodded towards Mickey's hand because it was still clutching his phone. He half expected Mickey to throw it at him or a wall or maybe stamp on it, but instead he calmly - freakishly so - took a step closer and pressed it to Ian's chest. Ian put his hand over Mickey's before it slowly slipped away. Gentle wasn't the first word that sprung to mind when Ian, or anyone, thought about Mickey, but that's exactly what he was being. Even his expression had softened and his shoulders were relaxed and loose. It wasn't quite right. He looked defeated. Ian hoped he didn't feel that way because that might have meant that he would give up trying with him. Ian wanted Mickey back but he wasn't going to be a fucking door mat just so that could happen. He needed to know that Mickey was going to be there, even when he was terrified.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Ian left, walking home as quickly as his legs would allow. He still felt groggy and his headache wasn't improving. The thousands of thoughts rushing through his mind probably didn't help matters.

Practically his whole family were in the pool, including half the neighborhood's kids for Debbie's day care thing when he arrived home.

"Someone's wearing the same clothes they wore yesterday!" Kev shouted especially loud.

Kev, Vee and Lip all looked at him with wide, knowing grins. Ian wasn't in the mood for dealing with other people's joy at his expense. He stopped at the bottom of the steps. "How observant of you," he deadpanned.

Faking a slightly shocked expression, Kev turned to Lip. "Is he sassing me? I feel like he's sassing me."

Rolling his eyes, Ian hurried up the stairs and into the kitchen where Fiona was sat reading a magazine and looking extremely calm. Or high maybe. He was about to head for the stairs when she spoke.

"Ah, where are you off to so quick?" she asked, putting down her reading material.

Slowly, Ian turned to face her because he knew Lip and his big mouth had already told her the main event of last night. He just knew it.

She smiled at him. "Y'know it would have been easier for you to call than for me to try and decipher a text Lip sent me. A pretty explicit text, too," she said, still smiling.

"Remind me to thank him for that," he said sarcastically, taking a seat at the table. He held his head in his hands and sighed long and hard. He was hating this day already and he wasn't even at work or school or anything.

Taking her hands out of the pockets of her denim jeans, Fiona walked into the kitchen and reached into the squirrel fund. Ian looked at her questioningly because, well, what the hell was she doing? Money wasn't going to fix anything, especially when that money was needed for the Winter. She caught onto his confusion and huffed out a short laugh. "Painkillers?" she asked, holding up the pack of pills.

Ian nodded slowly but his expression stayed the same. "Carl and Little Hank thought it'd be a good idea," she started whilst running the tap, "to crush them up and sell them to junkies as cocaine," she explained, sitting down across from him handing over a glass of water and said pills.

Ian wasn't even surprised, Carl had been spending the Summer coming up with genuinely crazy ideas to make money. It was sort of sweet but insane which was actually a pretty good description of Carl, Ian thought.

Fiona was giving him a look, sort of silently asking him if he was okay without being annoying about it. He shook his head and immediately regretted it. "I don't want to talk about it," he said, faking a smile.

And with that, they fell into an unfamiliar silence, the only sounds being the screams and laughs of those in the pool.

* * *

It wasn't like Ian had been happy about what had happened between he and Mickey but for the next couple of days he seemed to feel a little less mopey - or sorry for himself as Lip referred to it. He still found it hard to stop thinking about Mickey but it wasn't as annoying. Mostly, he pictured the way the guy had looked at him after they had kissed the last time and that kiss... it still made his heart pound every time he thought about it. Which was every five minutes.

That was actually what he was doing that afternoon when Kiera strolled into the Kash and Grab and hopped onto the counter. She had on a jumper that was way too big for her, he recognised that it was Lips after a few seconds of wondering why it looked so familiar, and a floral skirt that seemed to be one of her favourites.

She beamed down at him but offered no explanation about why she was there. The Kash and Grab was straight up boring, not exactly a place people were desperate to hang out at. "Can I get you something?" he asked.

Shaking her head, she slid off the counter gracefully and faced him. "Oh, no. I came to see how you were. How are you?"

Ian nodded his head. "I'm fine," he answered, watching as she looked around the counter top and then bent forward a little to look behind it. "Sure you don't need anything?" he asked, now really confused.

Her eyes met his and she smirked, cupping his cheek. "You're out of Cheetos," she said simply which basically answered his question in a roundabout way.

How she even knew that was weird because she hadn't looked down any of the aisles since she'd entered, but Ian didn't question it. He got up and went out back to the store-room to get a few packs.

When he returned she was sat on the seat behind the counter, her hair that was now almost down to her ass because it grew an inch every week or something crazy like that, was spread across the counter as her head rested on it. She was messing about with the till and Ian looked at her quizzically before shaking his head and dropping a bag of Cheetos onto her head.

She laughed to herself then sat up, smiling. "How do you work these things? I've always wanted to know." Ian pushed a few of the buttons and the till opened much to her genuine amazement. "Oh shit, that's cool," she sighed out. Ian let her mess around with it because it was a Sunday afternoon and, including Kiera, he'd only served eleven people so far. That and Linda was out with the kids so wouldn't kill him for it.

He was on the opposite side of the counter to Kiera, who was still heavily engrossed in messing about with the till, when the door flew open making his plaid shirt flap about. Mandy all but dragged Mickey inside who looked like he'd be more comfortable in a gay bar than where he currently was. Mandy smiled at him then told Mickey to get some Pringles. He left with a huff and scowl.

Mandy and Kiera shared a strange look and before Ian could make even a little sense of it, Kiera rushed out from behind the counter and joined Mandy outside. She slammed the door shut and, fuck, she locked it!

Ian looked down at the handle with wide eyes and shook it, trying to open it. "Kiera, what the fuck? Open the door!" He knew she hadn't been there simply to see how he was but he didn't think it had been a part of some twisted plan to trap he and Mickey together. And when did she get sneaky enough to steal the key? Ian blamed Lip for that. Kiera was getting smarter by the day.

The two girls looked smug and completely amused at what they had done. Ian was not and he knew Mickey wouldn't be. Kiera shook her head and mouthed the word no slowly.

Just on cue, Mickey rocked up beside him and shoved him out of the way. Slamming his hands against the door, he growled, actually growled like a wild animal or something. "You fucking bitches, open the fucking door! Kiera, I swear to God..." he trailed off, staring at her hard.

"We'll see you in a couple hours," Mandy shouted as they turned to walk away.

So, he was going to be locked inside the Kash and Grab with a less than happy Mickey for two hours. How could this possibly get worse?


	27. Chapter 27

Mickey knew it. He seriously fucking knew it. Mandy had used the 'you didn't tell me you were gay and fucking Ian so you're going to spend time with me' line to guilt trip him into going out and getting high with her, which in itself was suspicious because when they hung out it tended to be inside on the X-Box. But then she'd given him this look like he'd just murdered a bunch of kittens or some shit and he couldn't say no to that face. So they were walking, Mandy's black skirt swaying in the wind as she rambled about Louis and, well, Mickey didn't really know what else because he zoned out from pure boredom. But then she was dragging him to the Kash and Grab to get snacks because Mandy always got the munchies crazy bad. Mickey hadn't seen Ian since he'd embarrassed the hell out of himself and he knew he was working because yeah, he knew the guy's work schedule like it was his own. Which was way too gay, but whatever.

Most importantly though, he didn't want to see Ian at all and at the same time that's all he wanted. He wished he could just give in and apologise but he had never in his life done that. He wasn't brought up with the knowledge that when you fuck up, hurt people that you give a shit about, you apologise and try to make it better. The word sorry wasn't one that appeared to belong in his vocabulary. And Mickey was a fucking asshole, he knew that, more comfortable breaking something, even if that was someone's heart, than trying to fix something if it didn't involve using his fists. He didn't think that would ever change but at least he was aware of that. Didn't think he was a good person or that his shit was made of gold. And though Ian was more than aware of that, he was a persistent, stubborn fucker and wouldn't take that as a valid excuse for why Mickey couldn't apologise.

Still, even though Mandy knew all about his incident with Ian - she was totally blackmailing him into sharing fucking everything with her, the bitch - she forced Mickey into the Kash and Grab, way too close to Ian for his liking because, quite honestly, just being in the same country as him was too close. She barked orders at him to get snacks and he was barely gone for a minute when he heard the door slam and Ian shouting "Kiera, what the fuck? Open the door!". He'd thrown down the food and charged across the store, his rage growing inside at the sight of his sister and Kiera standing on the opposite side of the door to Ian who was frantically, and futilely, attempting to open it.

He had really fucking known it and yet he hadn't thought the two she devils would be so fucking evil as to lock him inside the damn Kash and Grab with Ian. He had known something was up, but that? That was some next level torture. Christ, he was surrounded by a bunch of sadists.

There was no point in trying to threaten Kiera into opening the door, though he still did. It had no effect, obviously. The girl never reacted to his threats, regardless of how serious he was being.

And so he and Ian were left alone. Together. Locked inside. _Together_. Mickey breathed through his nose like one of those cartoon bulls, so pissed off and annoyed that he didn't actually know what to do with himself. But what he couldn't do was look over at Ian, even though he knew he was being stared at with wide eyes.

Startled by the hand that had dropped to his shoulder, Mickey jumped. Though not as much as he did when that hand began forcing him to walk backwards. It took a second for him to react. "The fuck?" he asked slowly, confused, but not removing the hand from his body.

Ian stopped pushing him and now that Mickey was looking at his face, he saw that Ian was just as pissed as he was. "Weed," he said, shrugging his shoulder that had his bag slung over it, like that was the obvious answer to Mickey's question, even though Mickey didn't think that it was and his face must've expressed that because Ian sighed, his free hand running over his face and the other dropping to his side. "I doubt we'll get through this sober, so..." He walked off and opened the store-room door, raising his eyebrows at Mickey. "Linda has the nose of a bloodhound," he explained, leaning against the door.

Mickey froze. One part of his mind told him to stay the fuck away from Ian, especially as he had weed and the guy got real handsy when high. But then the other part, the louder of the two, told him that wouldn't be so bad: if the two of them were high enough maybe they'd slip back into their old ways, Ian forgetting that he wasn't talking to Mickey, or, if not that, the awkwardness that lingered between them may fade. For once, he listened to that part of his mind he often ignored and strolled over to Ian like he hadn't just gone through a dozen thoughts - not particularly straight ones - in a matter of seconds.

A surge of nostalgia slapped him in the face at the sight of the store-room. All of those times he and Ian had spent their breaks fucking and pissing about in there flashed through his mind. He hated the memories because they were reminders of how easy things had been back then. Yeah, they were kind of fucked up, but they were easy. Not like now.

Ian smoothed out his dark jeans with one hand, Mickey's eyes following the movement as he shrugged off his black jacket and threw it to the side against the wall. He slid down it and bunched up his jacket so that it was comfortable to sit on. Quickly, he was joined by Ian, their legs touching and when Ian pulled his bag onto his lap, his elbow lightly dug into Mickey's side. He tried not to sigh too loudly at the contact, because seriously, he shouldn't have been getting turned on by that, he wasn't a fucking thirteen year old virgin.

Ian placed a little baggie half full of weed on one thigh and a small pipe that Kiera had brought him, identical to the one in Mickey's bed side drawer, below it. As Ian zipped up his bag, he nodded at his thigh expectantly and Mickey hastily snatched up the goods and began stuffing the pipe. He lit it up with his lighter and took a hit, holding it in his lungs for longer than he needed to. Blowing the smoke up to the ceiling, he turned to Ian whose eyes were fixed on Mickey's lips, his own making a slight o shape. Mickey smirked smugly, his mouth stretching out to a smile when Ian dropped his head, his face reddening slightly from embarrassment.

If asked, Mickey would blame the weed for what he did next, even though it hadn't had time to have any effect on him. But fuck it, it was the weed that made him scooch across and straddle Ian's thighs, placing the pipe between his lips. Ian, shocked as he was, held onto the pipe as Mickey lit it up. He watched the way Ian's chest rose as he took a long drag; the way his eyes fluttered shut, breathing out the smoke and letting his head fall back against the wall. Honestly, Mickey didn't think he could witness anything hotter than Ian gradually getting high. It was something about the way his eyes would glisten and how his mouth was permanently set in a half-smile that completely fucking wrecked him.

The pipe was passed back to him and he took a short hit as he began to lift off of Ian, reluctantly. But a hand gripped his waist and there was a silent plead in Ian's eyes that unsettled Mickey. It looked like a please, but not just 'please stay on my lap' or 'please don't make these next two hours worse than they have to be'. It was a 'please tell me you're sorry, please tell me you want me and won't leave me if you get scared again, please.' Mickey hovered above Ian, unsure of what to do, unsure of how to respond to the words that never left Ian's mouth yet echoed in his head. In the end Ian let go with a disappointed sigh and moved his legs until Mickey got the hint and sat back down beside him.

Guilt wasn't something that Mickey was used to feeling. Sure, he'd felt it in the past but not like this. Not so strongly. And that was because he knew that, as much as he wanted to and had done in the past, he couldn't blame Ian for this mess. When Ian had burst into his room when he'd gotten out of juvie, he didn't have to comment on the fact that he hadn't had a visit from him, he could have quite easily told Ian that when he had said "done is done" he meant it and yeah, that would have been another lie but every other thing that came out of his mouth was one. He didn't have to pour his apology into a kiss, but he did. That was him, not Ian. And this was no different; Ian hadn't done the wrong thing, the stupid fucking cowardly thing, he had.

"Kiera misses you," he said quietly, randomly, because he needed to say something.

The pipe was snatched from him. ""Kiera misses you"? That's all you have to say?" Ian didn't sound angry, in fact Mickey thought he sounded amused.

"What? It's true," he continued, averting his eyes to his own stretched out legs, "You're never around anymore."

He felt Ian twist to look at him. "Well yeah, it'd be a little awkward, don't you think?" he said with a laugh that actually comforted Mickey. "Besides, it's not exactly easy being around you." Mickey shot him a look and he hoped his confusion outweighed the fact that he was offended. Ian tilted his head. "Because, well..." he trailed off, looking uncomfortable as he took another hit. "I can't do what I want to do," he said softly, thick smoke falling from his lips and drifting up across his face.

Mickey knew what he meant, how could he not? But he still wanted to hear it, wanted to hear Ian confirm that he was still wanted because some days he wasn't so sure. "What do you want to do?" he asked, smug as fuck because he could feel his inhibitions slipping away ever so slightly.

Ian smiled down at his lap, shaking his head. "You already know, asshole, you just wanna hear me say it." Once again proving that he knew Mickey far too well.

Humming in agreement, Mickey took the pipe for a final hit and shifted so that he was closer to Ian because he just wanted to be and his brain wasn't shouting at him to stop and move the fuck away and not show his feelings. In fact, it was telling him to. And when Ian slid a little further down the wall and nosed at his shoulder like a damn puppy, he didn't hesitate to raise his arm and allow Ian to nuzzle against his neck.

It was such a familiar position to be in, yet it felt so different, so new. It felt like the first time he'd ever touched Ian but like it could also be the last. There was a real chance that he could lose Ian and that fact, that obvious, in your face fact, was only just hitting Mickey properly. Whether that be because he was high or feeling nostalgic and like he was homesick or some shit, he didn't know.

Taking in a deep breath, Mickey rested his head atop Ian's and took a moment to gather what little courage it took to say just two words. However, for Mickey, it was more than that. More than words. He'd only heard his parents say it once. His dad slurring that he was sorry for making him bleed then continuing to do so every week until he was big enough to hit back, his mom with mascara running down her cheeks, red lipstick smeared across her face, saying sorry for shooting up again and that she promised she wouldn't do it again. Sorry and a promise in one sentence, what bullshit. Milkovichs weren't taught the meaning of the word sorry, but right then, Mickey knew that he was for maybe the first time in his shitty life. He was sorry and so if he said it, it wouldn't be a lie.

"Hey, Gallagher?"

Ian moved so that he could look up lazily through his lashes at Mickey. "Yeah?"

Mickey ran a thumb across his bottom lip and looked away. A ragged breath left his mouth before he could stop it. Why the fuck was he nervous? All he had to do was say two little words to Ian yet it felt like he was about to make a speech to a crowd of thousands of people. It was so fucking dumb.

Ian's hand gently caressed his cheek, coaxing him to face his way again.

It worked like a charm. Ian's eyes were so big, so hopeful but with a hint of panic in them; Mickey didn't blame him really. "I, uh..." he started, pausing for a moment, "fuck, alright... I'm sorry." He quickly looked away because there was no way in hell he was going to fucking blush in front of Ian.

For a second or two when Ian shuffled about, Mickey thought he was getting ready to leave, only to be surprised when his thighs were weighed down by Ian who was straddling him, eyes focused on Mickey's face vehemently. "You mean it," Ian uttered quietly, more to himself than Mickey. It wasn't a question, no, it was more like a statement.

Mickey nodded once anyway, eyes shifted to meet Ian's. "Yeah, Sherlock," he muttered because this was all getting too emotional for his liking. That earned him a playful punch on the arm. They stared at each other; it could have been for ten seconds or ten minutes, neither of them could tell. Completely and utterly lost in the familiar, intimate way that they loved to look.

Days and days of anxiety and stress that he didn't even know he had, seeped out of Mickey with every passing moment. And his head didn't seem to hurt anymore once Ian snuggled against his side, his whole body draped over him. Ian got real fucking handsy when he was high, and Mickey loved it.


	28. Chapter 28

Mickey woke to the hushed laughter of his sister and the mindless, unintelligible ramblings of Ian as he slept. It took a moment for him to remember why the fuck he had just woken up in the store-room of the Kash and Grab with Ian practically drooling on his shoulder, but then he looked down to see his hand splayed across Ian's thigh and it all came back to him.

Mandy cleared her throat, waking Ian and demanding Mickey's attention. "I see mine and Kiera's plan worked then," she said, cocky smirk on her face as she twirled the keys around on her finger.

"Bitch, you haven't got the fuckin' brains to come up with that shit," Mickey retorted. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had grown in them thanks to the hard, cold wall he'd been slumped against for the last couple of hours. "This has Kiera written all over it," he muttered looking down at Ian, though he couldn't exactly stay annoyed for long what with Ian being so close to him.

Again, Mandy cleared her throat and both of them twisted to look at her. "If you're really that comfortable, I can leave," she suggested sarcastically, "but that crazy bitch should be back soon, so..."

Ian lifted his head from Mickey's shoulder rolled his eyes at her. "She isn't that crazy," he said, though his words were lost on Mandy; she'd decided that Linda was insane a _long_ time ago. Slowly, he stood and stretched his arms towards the ceiling, giving Mickey quite the eyeful of his lower abs which he couldn't look away from, despite his sister being present. Ian got his bag and grabbed the keys from Mandy, looking at both of them expectantly.

Mickey stood, throwing his jacket over his shoulder. He felt sort of uneasy as the three of them made their way out of the store-room, and had too many questions flying about inside his brain for him to make any sense of them, let alone decide which was most important. He could remember everything that had happened, he hadn't been that fucked, but he didn't understand quite what it meant. Sure, he could read Ian, understood what certain looks meant, but he didn't know if he was forgiven; the drugs may have turned Ian a little soft, made him quicker to respond to Mickey's apology than if he was sober. But he was sober now and wasn't yelling at him or ignoring him, he was sat behind the counter staring.

"Thinking?" Ian asked, sounding like he knew anyway.

Shrugging, Mickey looked down at his feet awkwardly. Sometime during his, what he hoped was short, thought process, Mandy had left, leaving the two of them alone again. Well, alone with one elderly woman checking out the apples.

"Uh, look," Ian started, "I've kind of gotta work, so." Ian wasn't meeting Mickey's glare, studying the pen in his hand instead.

Something felt a little off to Mickey. Was Ian still pissed? He couldn't really tell but he wasn't going to push the subject, not here. Maybe not anywhere. He stood a little straighter. "Right, yeah, see ya," he said quickly as he headed out.

The air hadn't gotten any warmer nor the sky brighter; it was a shitty excuse for a Summer's day. Hurriedly, he put on his jacket and walked the short distance home, not even bothering to light up a cigarette despite the craving. Really, he should have felt better, like he had done when Ian had first cuddled up to him, because he had done what he'd wanted to do, needed to do. It hadn't exactly entered Mickey's mind that that wouldn't be enough.

Kiera was sprawled along the couch when he got inside, in just her lacy black underwear and it was obvious that if he'd walked in maybe five minutes earlier, he would've caught her and Lip going at it. He hated that he knew what Kiera's fucking afterglow face looked like. She instantly perked up when she saw him and made space for him. He pulled a face and sat on the arm of the couch because there was no way he was going to accidentally sit in Lip's come. Not after the fucking first time. The mere thought of that memory made his stomach turn.

Noticing his discomfort, Kiera snorted. "Oh, right, because you and Ian have never fucked on the couch before," she said disbelievingly.

"No," Mickey responded because that was actually true, surprisingly.

Kiera rolled her eyes anyway then glanced toward the kitchen where Lip was making as much noise as possible. "So, Mandy text me, told me our plan worked."

Mickey looked down at his hands dangling between his knees and bent forward. He rested his elbows on his legs and put his head in his hands for a couple of seconds. He wasn't sure what to say. Had their - Kiera's - plan worked? Was he back in Gallagher's good books? He didn't know. He felt so out of the loop even though there was only one other person in it.

"Oh," Kiera whispered, crawling across the cushions toward Mickey. "It didn't?" she asked, sounding too sad for someone who wasn't immediately involved in the situation.

Shrugging, Mickey looked at her. "I apologised, he, like, kinda went back to normal, huggin' me and shit," he explained, never once looking at her. The tv that wasn't actually on getting his full attention.

Kiera knelt up and from the corner of his eye, Mickey could make out her questioning look, willing him to carry on. He didn't really want to, but if anyone was going to help him or at least not laugh at his faggy self, it would be Kiera. Besides, Lip was making too much noise in the kitchen to hear them. So he turned to face her and went on. "He was high, though. We both were and then we fell asleep and when we woke up, he seemed different."

"Different how?"

Mickey sighed. "I don't know, like, maybe he didn't give a shit that I said sorry, like he only reacted like that 'cause he was high. I mean, come on, he hugs fuckin' everyone when he's high," Mickey ran his thumb across his bottom lip, "can't keep his damn hands to himself," he muttered, sounding more annoyed than he meant to because when Ian got handsy with other people, especially his and Mandy's friends Mickey didn't really know, Mickey fucking hated it.

"Calm down, Mr. Possessive," Kiera joked, patting his knee. "Okay, so maybe he wouldn't have accepted your apology so quickly and willingly if he weren't high, but he still would have." Mickey shot her an incredulous look, one brow raised. "Oh, trust me, he would have," she clarified and he believed her. "You just have to let him know that he can relax, that you aren't going to run off or push him away again. That'll take more than an apology."

"How the fuck am I meant to do that?" Mickey was well aware of the fact that he didn't use his words in the best of ways and there was no way in hell he was going to profess his love or write a song or buy Ian flowers or some shit. No. Way.

"Nothing grand," Kiera said casually, sitting back on her heels. She took a moment, most probably to think, Mickey thought, then looked back at him. "Right, so you and Ian are both kind of messed up when it comes to relationships and whatnot, right? It's not as though either of you have witnessed healthy relationships between your parents. I'm the same. Which is probably why Ian didn't immediately see anything too wrong about his thing with Kash and why you used to think having sex with someone more than once was too much of a commitment. It's probably why Lip stayed with Karen for so long even though she was eating away at him-"

"Hey!" Lip shouted from the kitchen. Shit, apparently he could hear.

Kiera shrugged off the interruption and resumed her speech that Mickey thought she must have rehearsed or something. "The point is, he's already emotionally scarred from a lot of shit, so are you. But the two of you find comfort in each other and what with all the people that have left Ian's life when they should've stuck around, he needs to know that if he holds onto you, you aren't going to push him away. Again. And you have to understand that being scared isn't a good enough reason to make someone feel like they aren't wanted. You need him just as much as he needs you and you're going to have to suck it up and prove to him. Again." She took a deep breath and Mickey stared at her, slightly open-mouthed and taken aback.

For a few seconds all he could do was stare and try to soak in everything that Kiera had said. It made sense, that was for sure. But it didn't explain what he needed to do and Mickey wasn't an expert at relationships, not by a long shot. Had never been in one or something remotely resembling one. Except with Ian. There are a lot of things he's only done with Ian; said to Ian; felt because of Ian. He was about to ask Kiera, again, how he was supposed to do that, but she got there first.

"You have to get closer to him," she instructed and Mickey all of a sudden felt weird about all of it. He felt weird about getting advice from Kiera about his relationship like they were a couple of girls at a sleepover discussing their boyfriend troubles. Truthfully, he felt pathetic that he genuinely needed someone to tell him how to act. And the fact that that was the moment Lip decided to give up whatever the fuck it was he was doing in the kitchen and grace Mickey with his fucking sense of humour only made him feel worse.

"Closer? He's had Ian's dick up his ass, how much closer can they get?" he asked with a wicked smirk on his face.

Mickey sent him a warning glare but it really didn't have the intended effect. All Lip did in response was jump over the back of the sofa and land gracelessly beside Kiera.

Kiera turned her back to her boyfriend. "Ask him out," she said casually. "Maybe not on a real date but invite him over here properly, order some take out, watch a movie, talk about real things. Oh and use your words well, don't just swear at him," she said, half serious, half joking.

Mickey stopped himself from telling her to fuck off, instead nodding his head. That wasn't a terrible idea. Mickey could probably do that. They had eaten together before, watched a movie together before, talked together before; putting all three together wouldn't be so hard. Shouldn't be so hard. Mickey stood and made his way to his room, nodding his thank you at Kiera who nodded back.

Later that night, whilst Mickey should have been sleeping seeing as he had work at nine in the morning, Kiera shuffled into his room. She closely resembled the girl from The Ring, but Mickey didn't say anything. Simply allowing her to crawl into bed beside him because she no longer snuck onto his couch in the middle of the night, upgrading to his bed. It never happened more than a few times a week, so Mickey didn't really mind that much, he knew better than to bother her about it because she always looked so lost, almost scared, as she stared up at the ceiling. It was probably the weirdest thing she did. And for someone so strong, not only physically, she never seemed so weak.

* * *

There was really no reason Mickey should have been so nervous. He had a plan. Well, he sort of knew what he was going to do. Okay, so Mickey didn't have a plan whatsoever, but really, how fucking hard was it to ask someone to hang out when you've already fucked. A lot. He didn't need a plan, he never usually planned anything. All he had to do was tell Ian to hang out with him. It was simple. _So simple. _Even so, his heart hadn't stopped hammering away in his chest at an alarming rate all through work and he'd been asked if he was feeling okay more times than he had liked. Mostly by Louis, so that wasn't too bad.

But still, his heart seemed to actually speed up - like how the fuck was that even possible, was it going to burst or something? - as Louis drove him home in his beaten up, old car that took a whole minute to start-up. It didn't help one bit that Louis drove exceptionally slow because his mom had drilled it into his head that he would instantly die if he drove faster than twenty miles an hour. Mickey just needed to get there so he could get the fuck on with it.

"You good, bro?" Louis asked when they stopped at a red light.

Mickey adjusted his white work top, only then realising how dirty he had gotten it. "Yeah," he lied, "Hey, y'know the Kash and Grab?" He waited for Louis to nod. "Drop me off there."

And ten minutes later, though if Louis drove like a normal person it would've taken only two, they pulled up outside the Kash and Grab. Mickey quickly got out, casually waving goodbye. As soon as Louis drove away, Mickey stood at the door. Just stood there, trying to calm the fuck down. His heart, somehow, was beating even faster now, because apparently it had plans to escape through his chest. He shook his head, forcing the unwanted thoughts from his head and opened the door nearly colliding with a couple of kids with handfuls of chocolate. Once inside, Mickey gave the place a quick look, checking they were alone, before setting his gaze on Ian.

"Hey," Ian greeted with a half-smile, looking up from the magazine he'd been flicking through. He squinted at Mickey's body, clearly confused about his outfit.

"Work," Mickey said.

Ian nodded. "Oh yeah, how's that going?" he asked.

"Fine, I guess," he answered, taking a little step forward. "So, uh, what time do you get off?"

Smirking, Ian raised an eyebrow. "Well-"

"Not a fuckin' euphemism," Mickey muttered, fighting the urge to smile at Ian's filthy fucking mind.

"Okay," Ian laughed, "eight, why?" He seemed genuinely curious.

Clearing his throat, Mickey pushed his hands deep into his jeans pockets. "Come over after." Because he blatantly didn't understand the concept of asking people to do something rather than telling them to and didn't think Ian would say no anyhow.

The look on Ian's face both amused and worried Mickey. It made sense that Ian would be a little shocked, but judging by his expression, anyone would think Mickey had just proposed to him. After blinking several times in a row, he spoke. "Okay," he said slowly, "to do what?" There was a deeper meaning to that question and Mickey knew it; knew that Ian was asking if it was just some sort of booty call, just sex. It wasn't. In fact Kiera had threatened bodily harm if he did have sex with Ian on their "date" because this was supposed to show he could actually be a "real boyfriend". He wasn't going to even try to defy her because she could always tell when he'd had sex. The freak.

"Hang out, eat some food, watch a couple of movies or not, we can go on the X-Box instead if you want or something else," he rambled, before he could stop himself. "Whatever, just come over. Alright?" He was slightly flustered now, waiting anxiously for Ian's answer.

"Yeah, sure."

Mickey nodded at him, unsure of what to do. So he stared at Ian because he wanted to; always fucking wanted to. And Ian stared back with a smile in his eyes and immediately Mickey's heart began to slow down, beating to a calm rhythm. They stared until a customer opened the door and unsettled the silence. Mickey left shortly after, his legs moving so fast, he may aswell have been jogging.

Nobody was home and he couldn't work out if that was good or bad. It's not like he was freaking out, he wasn't, but he felt restless. For four hours he was going to have to keep himself entertained and his mind busy enough so that he didn't fixate on the events of later that day.


	29. Chapter 29

**As I've said plenty of times before, thank you for the reviews, they honestly inspire me to write and make me smile, so thank you!**

After Mickey had spent an hour of absent-mindedly watching tv, Mandy and Kiera walked through the front door, seeming to be in the middle of a conversation. They had brown paper bags in their arms held against their chests that were overflowing with groceries. Upon seeing them, Mickey stretched his neck, attempting to look at what the bags contained, but frustratingly he failed. Mandy pulled the Pringles out of one of the bags and waved it at him, her expression slightly amused. Mickey simply nodded.

The two girls spent a little while - though for Mickey it was too long, he was freaking the fuck out and, unfortunately, at least to him, he needed to talk with Kiera - sorting out the groceries in the kitchen, laughing and giggling as they did so. Mickey was already irritable, he was even when nothing was happening, but the sounds of them in the kitchen, carefree and happy, were threatening to send him over the edge. Luckily, Kiera walked into the living room not long after. The two of them waited for Mandy to go to her room before they struck up conversation.

With her little legs crossed and her hands in her lap holding down her skirt, Mickey thought Kiera looked like a little schoolgirl or something. Not even a slutty one. She raised her eyebrows at Mickey and widened her eyes. Mickey understood that that was his cue to speak, but seriously, he had no fucking clue what to say. Not even five minutes ago he was getting angry because he couldn't talk and here he was, mouth open, completely silent like some damn mute.

With a loud sigh, Kiera rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, you strange little boy," she muttered to herself. "What did Ian say?" she asked slowly, enunciating dramatically.

Mickey frowned at her. Annoyed. Offended. Neither, really. "Yeah," he replied, finally finding his voice.

Kiera tucked a long - too long if you asked Mickey - strand of her hair behind her ear. "Right, okay. Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Oh, right yeah, now all I have to do is set up a fuckin' date," he complained. He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling heavily. Yes, he was getting worked up over fuck all, but Mickey had never been on a date in his whole, not exactly long, life. To him, it felt like he was doing too many things for the first time and though to other people none of it would have been something even remotely close to a big deal, it was to Mickey. It all was. So many things were different; he was different; his entire life felt like it was different. No dad, no brothers, less fear, less fighting and breaking the law, less dumb as fuck need to make his dad somewhat proud, Kiera, Ian, fucking Louis and Lip. It should have made him feel at ease, happier even. And it did at times. But that isn't to say there wasn't always that darkness looming over him; that warning telling him to not get too comfortable, too content, because his life was destined to be a series of fuck ups followed by more fuck ups. Just was. None of it ever left his mind, though. How could it? It all made sense in his head; none of it was questioned. If he said anything, asked what it meant, or God help him, asked for advice, it would be out of his hands and into someone else's. Most likely Kiera's. And it's not like she wouldn't be able to make sense of it, she made sense of everything, but Mickey wasn't prepared to share that with anyone. Not even with Ian when he was too blissed out to give a shit about what he said. Things were changing and Mickey wasn't used to it. So maybe, just maybe, his freaking out was justified. At least he thought so.

Nodding her head, Kiera slid off the couch and crawled across the carpet, stopping in between Mickey's legs. "Listen," she started, resting her forearms on Mickey's thighs, sending memories of getting sucked off by Ian racing through his mind. So not fucking helpful. "This isn't even a real date, you're just hanging out, you've done that so many times before, why is this any different? Oh, because you had to ask him first?" And if that had come from anyone else, Mickey would have been feeling incredibly pathetic right then, but Kiera had a way of talking that rarely left him feeling nothing but understood. He fucking hated it and it always made him think of Dr. Harris, strangely enough.

Mickey shrugged and looked down at her. "Feels like a lot of fuckin' pressure," he ground out, looking down at her calm eyes.

"Unnecessary pressure, though. You get that, right? All you need to do is do what you were doing before Mandy found out," she instructed, drumming her fingers against the inside of his thigh, her natural reaction to having her hands on a surface. Her hand suddenly clamped down on him and all expression vanished from her face. "No. Sex."

Squirming under her hold, Mickey nodded his head and when that wasn't enough to make her let go he spoke. "Alright, fuck," he gasped, head hitting the cushion behind when she released him. "Bitch," he grunted, "why the hell not? It ain't like we haven't before. Or, oh, am I not supposed to fuck on the first date?" he asked, mockingly.

"Fine, have sex, don't have sex, whatever. Just promise me you'll talk. Please?"

She had no right to sound like that, Mickey thought, no right to sound so fucking sad. It was horrible and just not needed. And Mickey couldn't stand it when she sounded like that, so needy and as young as the girl she dressed like. That, and she was trying to make him make a promise. Christ, another first. "Yeah, whatever," he said quickly, just so she'd back off.

After that Kiera continued to go on about what people tend to do on dates, like Mickey was a fucking idiot and didn't already know - he told her just that. She also ran to her room and came back with a black backpack filled with dvds in plastic wallets that she obviously didn't get from a store, telling him to take his pick and that she and Mandy were out for the night so that he and Ian had the place to themselves. Mickey was thankful for that but kept it to himself.

The two of them watched tv for a while before Kiera abruptly shot off the couch and left in a flurry, shouting something about being late to meet Lip or some shit that Mickey couldn't care less about. He glanced at his phone - he had just under an hour before Ian was due to come round. That was okay, it was fine. He'd successfully calmed himself down and it was fine.

Mandy, in what Mickey had told her was a shirt, not a fucking dress to be worn without jeans, strolled out of her room and into the hallway, bag over her shoulder. Mickey waited for whatever snide remark she was going to throw his way. He didn't have to wait long.

Rolling her heavily made up eyes, Mandy put one hand on her hip. "Change your shirt," she ordered, "nobody likes to fuck hobos."

Though she had a point - Mickey was still in his filthy work clothes - Mickey still retorted "seems to work for you" with a raised eyebrow.

She scowled at him and drop her hand to her side like she was already tired of the conversation. "Whatever, assface, just don't fuck this up." She walked away to the door and left, but not before yelling "or else you'll have to go back to your right hand!"

Annoyed as he was, he did as she said, changing into his prefered dark t-shirt and jeans. He even sprayed on some deodorant because it couldn't do any harm, could it? He wasn't making a fucking effort or anything, even though he did half-assedly tidy his, then the living room.

Boredom quickly set in again, the kind that can't be chased away with tv shows, so Mickey took Kiera's laptop from her room and proceeded to play shitty games on it until there was a knock on the door. He almost didn't hear it, so heavily engrossed in his game of Pacman but eventually he got up and answered.

_I'm so fucked_, Mickey thought to himself when he saw Ian stood there, little smile on his face. Everything he was wearing Mickey loved - those light skinny jeans, dark plaid shirt over a grey t-shirt - and he knew for a fact he had never said that aloud, so really, what the fuck? Was he that obvious?

Shaking out of his horny daze, Mickey stood to the side, allowing Ian to come inside and then closed the door.

"Pacman?" Ian asked once he was on the couch with the laptop resting on his thighs. "You have an addiction," he murmered as he began to play it himself.

Playfully, Mickey told him to fuck off and then got a couple of beers from the fridge.

It was stupid, but he didn't know how close he should sit next to Ian. He didn't want to get too close but then he also didn't want to be on the other end of the couch. He settled for the latter and turned his attention to the bag of films, rummaging through it like he hadn't checked what each film was an hour ago.

A laugh startled him and when he looked, Ian was shaking his head and smiling to himself.

"The fuck?" Mickey asked, puzzled.

Ian put the laptop onto the coffee table and faced him. "Why are you so far away and pretending that I don't exist? That's usually the opposite of what people do on a date, just so you know," he said, smug.

Mickey froze. He'd been hoping that Ian would think this was just a casual hang out, but no. He moved slightly closer to Ian but not all that much and judging by the guy's unimpressed expression, it wasn't enough. Mickey gave him a quick once-over. "You want me in your fuckin' lap?" he asked sarcastically, not that he'd mind if Ian said yes.

He didn't, but his smirk didn't exactly say no, so Mickey moved closer still so that their thighs touched and shoved the bag of films in Ian's lap, telling him to choose.

"I'm glad you asked me over," Ian blurted out, like he couldn't control his mouth and when Mickey looked at him he had his head in the bag but had stopped moving. "I know you're not used to doing stuff like this and I know it's weird and new for you, but still you did it anyway. For me."

"Well, yeah," Mickey said, like it was the most obvious thing. It really wasn't.

Ian's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he spoke again, this time looking at him. "You know I forgive you, right? You were scared and yeah, you did a shitty thing but it wasn't really you."

"It was fuckin' dumb," Mickey admitted, unable to look Ian in the eye.

"Yeah," Ian agreed. "And you're never gonna do it again because I can't have Debs trying to give me advice on how to get a new boyfriend."

Mickey's eyes bugged and his mouth shot open. "Wh..."

"She's smarter than you think and more trustworthy and loyal than anyone I know. Relax," Ian told him and Mickey didn't think he was lying so he did relax. A little.

Mickey ran a thumb across his bottom lip and watched Ian watch the movement. "Tell her she can stop now." Mickey's heart began to speed up. Now was the time for Ian to say no, to reject him and Mickey wouldn't have been surprised if he did so. He wasn't exactly worthy.

A smile spread across Ian's face and he quickly turned back to the bag on his lap, embarrassed. "Will do," he said quietly. A couple of seconds passed before Ian looked at him again, brows furrowed. "Wait. Does that mean you're actually my boyfriend? Like, for real?"

Mickey shrugged casually. Not like that would shut Ian up, but still.

"Mickey," Ian said and it sounded so desperate and his face was so open. All of his emotions on display right in front of Mickey's eyes.

"Fuck, yes, alright."

"You know that means you have to act like it. Like, not treating me like shit and pushing me away," Ian explained.

Mickey sighed hard. "Yes," he snapped, "and I don't fuckin' intend on doing either of those things so choose a damn movie already, alright?"

Ian nodded happily and hooked one leg over Mickey's. "In that case, Fiona'll be expecting you at dinner tomorrow," he informed him.

Christ, he shouldn't have expected anything less. They were Gallaghers after all. But he could probably, maybe, survive dinner. There were so many of them, not all of their attention could be focussed on him. He fucking hoped not anyway. "Whatever," he said.

Once Ian chose Pulp Fiction to watch, Mickey ordered pizza and they settled. Mickey answered Ian's questions about work and Ian answered questions about what he'd been up to that he hadn't actually been asked. It felt so good to hear Ian talk without having to worry. Mickey could sit back and listen to Ian go on about whatever shit he was talking about, his voice rising whenever there was a gunshot in the film.

Ian suddenly stopped talking and stretched his legs out in front of him, leaning back so that he wasn't facing Mickey and the leg that was over Mickey's was gone; so fucking dumb that he missed it. "Shit, I've been talking so much," Ian said to himself.

"I like it," Mickey admitted before he could stop himself.

That smile was back on Ian's face only this time, he was looking at Mickey. His eyes flickered from his lips to his eyes then back to his lips and stayed there. Mickey licked them involuntarily and mentally urged Ian to get the fuck on him and put his own to good use. Only, he wasn't getting the hint so Mickey took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He grabbed a handful of Ian's shirt and pulled him closer, pulled him so that he sat up and straddled Mickey's thigh. His pupils were blown and his hands were already making their way up from Mickey's chest to the back of his neck and really, Mickey didn't need to be told what to do next. His hands tightened their grip on Ian's hips and he reached up and caught Ian's lips with his own. Fuck. It had been too long, _way too long _since he'd had Ian like this. Their drunken one night stand didn't count for he could barely remember that. But this, this was real and it was happening because they both wanted it. Mickey wanted to be biting at Ian's bottom lip, making him moan and Ian wanted him to, Mickey knew it. Finally he could touch Ian the way he always wanted to, no matter what was happening. Finally he could push his hands up under his shirt and touch the warm skin of Ian's waist. Finally.

A shiver shot down his spine when he felt a hand go for his flies. He pulled back and looked up at Ian, his lips kiss swollen and red.

Ian swooped down, his hand still at Mickey's jeans only now it was teasingly moving over his semi. "What's wrong?" Ian fucking purred right in his ear, voice so low that Mickey had to bit his lip so he didn't moan at the sound of it. "Don't you fuck on the first date?"

And that stripped away any self-control Mickey might've had. Christ, the things this guy fucking did to him.

It all happened so fast and easily. Clothes were stripped away from bodies, thrown away just to get them as far from on as possible. They were a jumble of limbs, moving about with each other trying to get into position.

Mickey ended up on his knees and forearms, his face smushed against cushions. Smiling because he could and because right then, nobody could see him.

One second Ian's hands were stroking his back slowly, softly, and the next they holding onto his hips, fingers digging in so deep that Mickey didn't think he'd ever forget the feeling. All he could hear was the mixture of the grunts and the moaned words that steamed from his and Ian's mouths: loud, unashamed, and utterly desperate. Mickey was lost, so completely lost. He couldn't think and he could hardly hold himself up; so wrapped up in how good it felt to have Ian inside of him, hitting the perfect spot with almost every thrust.

There was no warning, nothing. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's stomach and pulled him so that his back was against Ian's sweaty chest. The sudden movement startled Mickey but, fuck, did that feel good. He arched into it and as one hand covered Ian's on his hip, the other snaked round Ian's neck. And not once did Ian stop moving, not even when Mickey turned his head and pressed kisses against his neck then crushed his lips against Ian's, rough and eager. Ian's movement's only momentarily slowed and in turn, their lips did the same; gently licking into each other's mouths.

Mickey didn't ever think that someone sweetly kissing the back of his neck could make him come, but that's exactly what it did and when he squeezed down around Ian that did it for him.

They fell forwards; tired and sweaty but totally satisfied. Mickey didn't care that Ian had managed to elbow him in the back on their way down. He could have fucking stabbed him in the back and Mickey wouldn't have given a shit. All was right.


	30. Chapter 30

**Sorry this took so long, I don't even have an excuse.**

When Ian arrived home in the early hours of the morning, slowly easing the door open even though he knew most of his family would still be up, his mind was playing over that night's events for the fifth time. It surprised him how at ease he felt now that he was back being Mickey's. Because, and he'd probably never feed Mickey's ego by telling him, he was owned by Mickey, more than willingly.

As he predicted, Fiona, Jimmy, Lip, Carl and Debbie were all crammed together in the living room; Carl sleeping soundlessly slumped against Jimmy's side. They were watching old Family Guy reruns. Debbie was the first to notice him stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. She jumped to her feet, startling everyone including Ian, and nearly tripped over her slippered feet. Ian couldn't hide his smile once he saw her Spongebob pyjamas that she wore until Fiona forced her out of them. His hand was grabbed and yanked so that he had no choice but to follow his sister to the table.

Slipping down onto one of the seats, she looked up at him and kicked out the chair opposite to her. "So, what happened?" she asked once he sat down, eager for an answer.

Ian only slightly regretted filling Debbie in about everything once she'd figured out why he was so moody. To his surprise, she'd put quite a lot of it together herself so she didn't have too many questions; most of them concerning why he hadn't told her etc. Since then she'd taken a very active interest in his love life - at one point also his sex life, but Ian had stopped her as soon as she started - and he was unable to decide if that was good or bad. "Everything's cool, Debs," he answered with a smile.

She huffed loudly, her chest rising then falling dramatically. "Finally," she exclaimed, standing, "now I can go to bed," she mumbled to herself, walking toward the stairs.

After a minute or two of random thinking - mostly about how awesome his little sister was - and daydreaming - mostly about Mickey and his face and mouth and hands - Ian forced himself to stand and lazily shifted into the living room. He was greeted with two knowing smirks from Fiona and Jimmy and a wink from Lip and fuck, did he feel happy. No, not happy. It was more than that. He felt just like how he had done all those weeks ago when he woke up beside Mickey again after so long - _too_ long. He felt safe and wanted and important. Rarely did he feel all those things together.

He looked down at Carl, his drool creating a damp patch on Jimmy's shirt. "I'll take him up," Ian stated softly and with a helping hand from Jimmy, he picked him up then made for the stairs.

Once Carl was settled in his bed, Ian stripped to his boxers and got comfortable in his own. Falling asleep took no effort at all; he closed his tired eyes and drifted into his dreams.

* * *

Lip was an asshole. Scratch that; Lip was a gigantic asshole. Apparently, during the night, Ian had been doing his random sleep talking - which he knew usually consisted of nonsense that made no sense at all - and couldn't shut up about how much he loved Mickey and how soft his skin is and how he's the best fuck Ian's had and the best kisser and a lot more highly embarrassing things that were actually genuinely true. Not that he'd gladly share such explicit details about his sex life with his brother, but his subconscious didn't really seem to care. However, that was enough to set Lip off for the rest of the morning and he was still going on about it even when Kiera turned up in the afternoon. Ian just hoped he would get tired of it because Mickey was due to turn up soon after Kiera.

"I mean, I don't have any personal experience, but Mickey's mouth is, and I quote, "made for sucking dick"," Lip all but shouted to Kiera in the kitchen so that Ian could hear. Then he pulled Kiera onto his lap sideways as he collapsed down onto the couch beside Ian. "Isn't that right?" Lip asked, sarcastically, turning to him.

Just as Ian was about to tell him to fuck off, Kiera straightened up and spoke. "You sounded disappointed when you said you haven't had any personal experience. You want Mickey to blow you?"

"If the next word out of your mouth isn't no, I will fuckin' hit you."

All three of them swung their heads round to see Mickey stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Ian instantly perked up a little at the sight of him. Fuck, was he whipped.

Lip snorted, his eyes following Mickey as he made his way to the armchair. "I don't know, Mick, you've gotten such high reviews..."

A mixture of embarrassment and amusement swirled inside Ian and he let out a nervous laugh when Mickey looked at him with questioning eyes as if he thought Ian had been raving to his brother about how good he was at giving head. Well, technically he had but not intentionally.

Dispelling the weird tension that had settled in the room, Kiera rose and forced Lip up by the wrist. "I came to swim," she informed him, and when Lip looked behind at Ian and Mickey, she said "oh, tell me all your jokes about it and get it out of your system before dinner." Then they left out the back door.

"Okay, so before you go crazy thinking I talk to my brother about us like that," Ian started, scooching forwards and to the side so he was close enough to Mickey that he could reach out and touch him, "let me tell you that I was talking in my sleep again and happened to mention you," he informed him, speaking so fast he was unsure if he had made any sense.

Mickey's face softened and Ian breathed a sigh of relief, only to tense up again at the sight of Mickey smirking. "Oh really?" he asked, smug as fuck his legs spread wide and his fingers drumming against his thighs. "What else did you say?"

And the way Mickey asked that would've been hot under any other circumstances, but Ian was too embarrassed to be honest. "Fuck off," he scoffed, lightly kicking his calf. "Want a drink?" Mickey nodded and so he stood up and went for the kitchen, only to be followed by Mickey.

Before he even got a couple of beers out for the two of them he was being cornered up against the kitchen counter, his back hitting the dirty dishes that were piled up in the sink. Mickey moved closer, crowding him even more as if that were actually possible, standing between Ian's parted legs. "Y'know," Mickey whispered, his voice low and menacing, as he placed a hand on Ian's waist under his t-shirt, "if I'm the best fuck you've had, just say it." He finished by biting down on Ian's neck and, in that moment, Mickey's hold on him and the hand he had on the counter behind him, was all that was keeping Ian upright. Mickey pulled back and they were so close that Ian could see how blown his pupils were; how turned on he was. And if that didn't tell him, Mickey glancing around and then smashing their mouths together certainly did. Ian's gasp was swallowed down and before he knew it he holding on to Mickey's neck and trying desperately to pull him closer, nearer because nothing felt as good as Mickey; his teeth and lips marking his neck like he was branding him. Ian tugged at his hair and resumed kissing him; devouring him. But it was slow and so, so dirty that Ian couldn't keep himself from moaning and grinding against Mickey's hand that was stuffed down the front of his open jeans. There would be bruises left from Mickey's strong hold on his waist, he knew it, and he couldn't think why he never wanted anyone else to bruise him like Mickey does.

And so he had an excuse for why he didn't hear the back door opening and the sounds of Fiona and Vee walking inside. It may not have been valid or decent, but it was an excuse.

"Please don't tell me you were going to fuck in the kitchen," Fiona said with laughter in her voice.

To Ian's surprise, Mickey didn't actually leap across to the other side of the room and start claiming that nothing was going on, nor did he leave; Ian had heard what Mickey said the night before and he believed him but there was still that feeling of uncertainty when it came to people catching them together, he still didn't know if Mickey wouldn't run. But he wasn't running. All Mickey did was back away, only slightly, took his hand out of Ian's jeans then leaned sideways against the fridge keeping his eyes down on Ian's feet.

Ian rolled his eyes at him then looked at Fiona who was smirking and Vee who looked about five minutes away from getting her sass on and snapping her fingers in a z formation. "Like you haven't," he said as he discreetly zipped his jeans back up.

Fiona simply smiled at him and left once Vee picked her pack of cigarettes. Which Ian took as a sign that he could carry on and so it was his turn to get up in Mickey's space, crowd him against the fridge and kiss him til he couldn't breathe.

There was a snort. "Y'all are some horny motherfuckers," Vee stated.

Ian laughed into Mickey's mouth then turned his head. "And you and Kev are...?" he questioned her because, seriously, those two were the kinkiest, most likely, sex addicts he knew.

Vee winked at him and left with her lighter in hand.

Ian didn't fuck Mickey in the kitchen, he fucked him in his room up against the door then went back downstairs to watch tv with him like nothing had happened. Of course Mickey casually threatened to kill Vee or Kevin if they so much as hinted to anyone about he and Ian, and Ian laughed in his face but eventually promised that they wouldn't when Mickey got him in a headlock.

It felt good, it felt easy and normal sitting beside Mickey in his own home watching dumb cartoons and sipping beer. He had a leg slung over one of Mickey's and, after persuasion that bordered on bribery, Mickey let him lift up his arm and put it over his shoulders. The reason behind it wasn't because, as Mickey put it, he was "a total fag", but because he always felt safe with Mickey around him; protected even when there was nothing to be protected from. Though if he said that he knew Mickey would take the piss out of him for it so he didn't. Figured he'd save it for when Mickey had just woken up or was still coming down from an orgasm.

"I swear to fucking God, one more episode of this shit and I'm gonna lose my mind," Mickey complained for the twelfth time - Ian had counted.

"Shut up and watch, Jimmy'll be here with the food soon," was Ian's response, just like it had been the other times.

And as if he heard him, Jimmy came rushing through the door with bags of take out and six packs of beer. He looked down at the two of them with raised eyebrows. "No please, just sit, it's not like I'm having a hard time carrying all of this."

Ian got up and kicked at Mickey's foot until he did the same and helped carry the bags into the kitchen where the rest of his family had already started to gather, most of them still a little wet from being in the pool. He could tell that Mickey was feeling anxious and out-of-place just by the way his face looked so vulnerable. That's how he always looked when he wasn't quite sure about what to do, like a little kid lost. Ian tentatively rested his hand on the small of Mickey's back and thanked God that Lip was coming toward them because he and Mickey were friends of some sort.

Lip eyed the two of them then spoke. "Hey man," he said to Mickey, "help with the plates?" He handed Mickey a couple and the two of them went back into the living room.

The rest of them quickly made their way into the living room with the food and drinks and Ian smiled at the sight of Mickey and Carl talking together, even if Mickey was looking kind of concerned and freaked out.

There were too many people, too many limbs and hungry stomachs but somehow they all managed to fit. Fiona, Jimmy, Kev and Debbie were on the couch, Carl, Kiera and Lip on the floor round the coffee table and Mickey was in the armchair with Ian on the floor between his feet. Ian thought they must have looked so weird to outsiders and wondered if Mickey thought it was strange that they all ate together because he knew Mickey's family never did. Something inside Ian stirred at that thought so he quickly resumed focussing on the film they were watching and the way Mickey occasionally would lean forward and steal some of his fries.

They mostly ate in silence. Every now and then Carl would comment on how realistic the deaths were on the film he had put on which wasn't necessarily a film that should be watched when eating. Ian no longer felt on edge because Mickey didn't which was when Lip asked him to pass the ketchup.

"You don't want to squeeze that too tight," Lip said as he passed it to him, "it'll end up squirting all over you."

Simultaneously, Mickey and Fiona choked on their drinks whilst Vee and Jimmy were very obviously holding back laughter. Yeah, Lip was a gigantic fucking asshole and Ian was so going to get him back.

Once everyone had finished eating - there was only one other interruption from Lip, a subtle, dirty pun regarding Ian's fingers which earned him a slap around the head from Jimmy - Vee left and Jimmy and Fiona went out to the kitchen. Carl was watching he and Mickey, Ian knew it, but what he didn't know was if it was because he was trying to figure out what was going on or if he already knew and simply thought it was weird. Ian didn't know which was worse.

But then he spoke. "Have you ever killed someone?" he asked with wide eyes.

Ian nudged Mickey who didn't know he had been spoken to. "Killed someone? Nah, man. Close though."

Carl smiled a little at that. "Cool. You're not like a fairy, not like Jake at school, but he's not so bad, I kicked this asshole in the nuts for calling him a fag, even though he is."

"No, Carl, he's a homosexual," Debbie explained. "Calling a homosexual a fag or a fairy is derogatory."

Carl pulled a face at her. "Whatever, I'm just saying."

"Yeah, but you can't just say stuff like that, it's offensive."

The rest of them stared at the two of them. Ian didn't know what Mickey or Lip or Kiera were thinking, but he couldn't quite believe what he had heard. Pride erupted in him, he had the best, possibly craziest, little brother and sister a person could hope for. He never thought Carl would exactly be homophobic but he didn't expect to hear that he'd stood up to someone who was bullying a gay kid. And Debbie, well, Debbie was too smart for her own good but it was great.

Debbie and Carl soon scampered into the kitchen with the promise of ice cream and it was Lip who broke the stunned silence. "Wow, well, that was weird," he commented, looking at all three of them in turn.

Paying no attention to Mickey's protests, Ian sat on his lap and looked at him. "You fuckin' Gallaghers," he muttered, "Seriously, so fuckin' weird."

"Well," Kiera began, fiddling with the buttons on her blouse, "at least you know the whole family is more than okay with it. That's awesome, so you can hang out here and Ian won't have to worry that you'll jump out his window and scream if someone walks in on you."

Mickey gave her the finger glared at her. Ian thought she had a point, a very valid one. A point that made him smile a little and lean back against Mickey's chest, enjoying the comfort he felt. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Mickey's prominent collarbone.

"Well kids, keep it PG-13," Lip joked as he and Kiera began to walk to the front door.

"Yeah, oh and here," Kiera handed Ian a condom, "just incase you can't control yourselves." The two of them left, giggling at how funny they thought they were even though they were incredibly unfunny.

As soon as the door was closed, Mickey's hands were up Ian's t-shirt again, gently holding his waist. "Why the fuck is your brother Lip?" he asked.

Ian tilted his head and smiled up at him. "Why is your Kiera Kiera?"

Mickey nodded and shrugged a shoulder because saying touché was too hard for him or something.

"She's right, though, about how good it is that everyone's okay with it, happy about it even. So, you don't have to y'know-"

"I'm not gonna fucking run, alright?" Ian sat up at that and moved so he was sat sideways on him. "Jesus, haven't we already done this?"

Shrugging, Ian played with the hem of Mickey's black t-shirt. "Just making sure," he mumbled, hating how childish he sounded and biting his lip so that he didn't pout.

"Well don't," Mickey said simply and twisted Ian's nipple with a grin.

Ian squirmed, slapping at Mickey's bicep. "Fuck, Mickey, stop. Ow shit, sorry, stop," Ian babbled through laughter, trying to keep his voice down. He took a deep breath when Mickey eventually let go and stared at his boyfriend. Ian had a _boyfriend_. Mickey was his _boyfriend_. It felt so strange to even think it. But it was a good kind of strange, the best. And because he didn't know how to word that right, he leaned forward and kissed Mickey softly, one hand cupping his cheek.

Mickey had to leave earlier than Ian would have liked, though if he had it his way Mickey would never leave. They were casually discussing Ian going back to school in a weeks time when Debbie walked up to them by the front door.

She didn't wait for Mickey to finish what he was saying and interrupted him. "Carl has nunchuks and my Japanese friend, Cho, who's a black belt in karate, is teaching him how to use them properly. Just so you know." She smiled sweetly then left them stunned.

Letting out a long sigh, Mickey gave Ian an incredulous look. "Your fuckin' family..." Mickey shook his head, and, if Ian hadn't been looking so closely, he'd have missed the little smile on his face. "Come 'ere," he demanded in a soft whisper, reaching one hand out.

Ian took a step forward and kissed him goodbye. He watched for a moment as Mickey walked down the steps from him house but closed the door with a laugh when Mickey turned around and raised one eyebrow telling him to fuck off. Yeah, that was his boyfriend.


	31. Chapter 31

**So this is it. Thank you so, so much to everyone who has read, followed, reviewed and favourited this, it has honestly been so great to have people enjoy my writing. I may start another Ian/Mickey fic, but I'm not sure when, only that I have an idea and I'd quite like to write it. Anyway, again, thank you!**

Mickey didn't think he deserved happiness, he wasn't worthy of it, never had been in his mind. But that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy feeling it. Fuck, did he enjoy feeling it. For so long he thought the only way he could find happiness was at the bottom of a bottle of vodka, so drunk and high that he could barely think. Now he knew that that wasn't happiness, wasn't even close. And if it made him the gayest, fucking faggiest person for wanting to thank Ian for having made him so happy, he didn't give a shit. Couldn't.

But then Ian was back at school and perhaps Kiera had been right when she taunted him for being possessive; maybe he was. It made some sort of sense when Mickey thought about it. He'd never had anything all to himself, everything he owned he was forced to share: his brothers would constantly steal his clothes when they were out of clean ones, even Mandy would use his t-shirts as pyjamas sometimes; his room, his own fucking room, was never really his, his dad, brothers even his mom a couple of times, would crash either on his bed or on his couch like they had any right to; phones, cds ,drugs, alcohol, cigarettes all belonging to him have been stolen like they were never his to fucking begin with. All his life things that belonged to Mickey were taken or borrowed, used, and so he learnt that he'd never have anything to himself, that people could come along and take whatever they wanted from him. Ian, though, Ian was his. Ian was his in a way that nothing had ever been his before. Because in return, Mickey was Ian's, it was a mutual belonging and so obviously Mickey would hold onto that with all the strength he could muster.

And yes, he got increasingly jealous whenever Ian talked about his new English teacher, which was a fuck ton. To other people, i.e. Kiera and Mandy, it would seem like Ian was simply enthusiastic about having a cool new teacher who he liked and liked him back but it sparked something inside Mickey. Like smoke rising from a fire until it set off an alarm; it built and built and built until he couldn't stop himself anymore.

"You fuckin' your English teacher?" he asked one evening when Ian had come round his house. Ian had homework to do but that didn't stop him. He simply bought it along and only complained a little when Mickey distracted him. In all fairness, Mickey had planned on wording that question so that it didn't sound like an accusation, but clearly his brain and mouth weren't up to working together that day.

There was a long stretch of silence, the only sound to be heard was the drop of Ian's pen onto the open school books scattered across the coffee table. Slowly, keeping his eyes on his own feet, Ian moved from his position on the floor and sat beside Mickey on the couch. "You honestly think I'd do that?" He sounded broken, beyond hurt that Mickey could question him in such a way and it made Mickey want to punch himself.

He cleared his throat and swallowed. "I don't... I don't know," Mickey mumbled quietly, averting his gaze to his tattooed knuckles that rested on his thighs. "He sounds... better." The "than me" Mickey didn't say because fuck it if he was going to admit to feeling threatened and kind of shitty that Ian found somebody else far more interesting than him. That shit he kept to himself, not even Kiera was going to get him to confess to that.

Ian shuffled closer and gently held one of Mickey's hand, despite knowing that Mickey hated it. "He's better than all my other teachers, Mick, not you," he explained, his voice strained, urgent. "Mickey, hey," he moved his hand to Mickey's cheek so Mickey looked back up at him, "I want you, okay? Besides the guy is like, almost sixty and practically bald."

Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Right, 'cause Jimmy's dad was so young," he teased, knowing how badly Ian wished he never told him about it.

Huffing out an irritated sigh, Ian returned to his spot on the floor, ignoring Mickey's chuckles. "Fuck off, he wasn't that old." Mickey hummed in sarcastic agreement. So maybe Mickey had a tendency to get a little possessive, a little jealous. But it was justified down to his fear - and it was fear, even though he told himself it wasn't - that something else that belonged to him would be taken away. Something that was way more important than anything materialistic he'd ever owned.

However, Mickey quickly let it slide and he realised that Ian no longer spoke about his English teacher in a lot of detail which he mentally thanked him for. So other than the fact that Ian was back at school, things were pretty much the same. Though he felt like everything thing he did was just to fill the time until he got to see Ian again, which was hugely fucking gay. Like work and hanging out with Lip and Louis and messing about with Kiera and his sister: all of it seemed to become a little less important, as though Ian was his main priority or some shit.

So Saturdays soon became Mickey's favourite day because Ian always slept round on Friday nights and Saturday was the only day that both he and Ian had off work so they usually spent most of the day in bed, completely naked and not caring that Mandy would complain about how loud they were or that when Lip was round, he'd make his usual snarky comments. And why would Mickey give a shit when he had Ian all to himself; all of his attention on him?

And why would he answer the door when he had Ian beneath him in only their underwear, sweaty and turned on?

"Mickey," Ian groaned, tugging on his hair so that he lifted his head, his lips leaving Ian's, now very red, neck. "Shouldn't you answer that?"

Mickey grumbled and grinded his hips down against Ian's, both of them half hard. "You want me to?" he asked into Ian's ear before going back to his neck.

There was no response from Ian, just like Mickey knew there wouldn't be. It made him smile into his neck until another knock rattled through the house. Insistent and hugely fucking annoying.

Ian told him to quickly answer it, that it might be important, but Mickey was having none of it. Way too comfortable and content where he was to move so he shouted, probably a little too close to Ian's ear, for Kiera to move her skinny little ass and answer the door.

"Oh, well, unless you want me arrested for indecent exposure, you'd answer it yourself!" she shouted back, in her usual nonchalant tone.

Begrudgingly, Mickey rose from his bed and stormed to the front door, ready to curse at whoever it was who decided to interrupt his Saturday afternoon activity. He swung the door open with so much force that the hinges gave a worrying squeak. "What!" he growled, his fist clenched beside his bare thigh. But when he managed to look through his haze of anger, his mouth fell open and his brows furrowed in equal amounts of shock and confusion. "The fuck?" he breathed out, his words barely audible.

"Milkovich. I see you haven't added to your tattoo collection."

Dr. Harris. Fucking _Dr. Harris_ was stood at his door with that same knowing look that, now he was looking straight at, he could see was scarily similar to Kiera's. Too similar. His mind began to race. Was this like a normal thing that happened? Were all ex inmates visited by the psychologist that they'd been assessed by? Was she here by choice? Those, and about a dozen other questions, whirled around inside his head, yet none of them were leaving his mouth. He couldn't speak through his shock.

She chuckled then ran a hand through her hair. It looked longer and a little more red than Mickey remembered. "Now is the time I'm usually asked if I want to come inside." Her eyebrows were raised slightly and she was playing with a set of keys in one hand.

Mickey stood to the side and she walked in, looking around curiously like she was in museum or something. Mickey followed her into the living room. "So, like, what the fuck is this? You here to visit me?"

She walked up to him, her crazy long legs striding across the room. "I'm here to see-"

"Laura!" Kiera screeched, running into the room and shoving Mickey out-of-the-way to leap onto Dr. Harris. Fucking leapt onto her, flimsy fucking dress flying about giving Mickey a much too close view of her ass.

He was so startled by Kiera's entrance that he hadn't actually taken into account what was going on: Kiera knew Dr. Harris - Laura, whatever - but clearly not how Mickey knew her because he wasn't even on a first name basis with her, let alone a 'jump on you because I'm so pleased to see you' basis.

The two of them stopped hugging but they were still beaming at each other. And that's when Mickey pieced it together. Now that they were stood side by side, their physical similarities were striking: their pale, porcelain skin; their hair, though different colours, was the same mix of wavy and straight; they both had little, ski slope noses and their eyes had that same warmth in them. The only real big difference in how they looked was their heights. Where Dr. Harris could probably be tall enough to model, Kiera could pass as a young teenager.

"Holy shit, you're fucking related?" He didn't know why he whispered that, like it was a dirty secret.

They both nodded, but it was Dr. Harris who spoke. "Yeah, I didn't know she was living with you, our dad and step mom weren't exactly forthcoming in telling me where Kiera was living but I beat it out of Seth." She said that last part to Kiera and they shared a small smile. "So imagine my surprise when he gave me the address and I saw that it was none other than the Milkovich's house."

Mickey looked on in shock, even as Kiera excused herself and went to get her shoes or bag or whatever, Mickey wasn't paying any attention to whatever the fuck she was saying.

"So, how are you doing?" Dr. Harris sat down on the couch and Mickey stood awkwardly beside it, suddenly aware of how much skin he had on show.

"Good, yeah. Haven't had to see you again, so." He smiled at her then. Short and probably not so sweet.

She nodded, her face turning serious. "Yeah, that is good. You got a job, right? Construction work? I'm pleased."

Familiarity flushed through Mickey as they stared at each other. Once again, that knowing, understanding look was back and it made his lungs feel heavy; drowning in the memory of that first meeting, of how it made him feel something he'd never felt before and now, only really felt around Kiera.

Ian shouted something then but Mickey couldn't quite hear it over the pounding of his heart. He knew it must have been something about coming back to bed because he could see Dr. Harris connecting the dots and then she smirked at him.

"Well, you certainly don't fit the stereotype." was all she said and Mickey, for once, really didn't care that yet another person knew about him so he shrugged and looked back over his shoulder at Ian shuffling across the carpet.

It perhaps wasn't the best time for Mickey to be thinking about how fucking good Ian looked, but he did anyway, even when the guy's eyes widened when he realised Mickey wasn't alone and froze.

"Ian, Dr. Harris-"

"Laura."

Rolling his eyes, Mickey carried on. "Ian, _Laura_, Laura, Ian." He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking too much at their overly polite "hello"s and "how are you"s.

For a moment the three of them just looked at each other, awkward, uncomfortable and clueless as to what to do next. But they were saved when Kiera came bounding back into the room all made up and pretty.

"Oh, Ian, you've met my sister, good." She was so enthusiastic it made Mickey's head hurt. "Well, we're going out now, so see ya later."

Mickey walked with them to the door and Laura waited back until Kiera was in her car. "I'm really happy for you, Milkovich, honestly. You've actually done something not a lot of people who have been to jail or juvie tend to do. You've gotten off your ass and made your life better, into something, I don't know, worth it." She didn't look like she was lying or like she was only saying it for Mickey's benefit. It made feel weird because her words made him feel good. "I'm really proud of you and I hope that you keep your ass out of trouble and live the kind of life you deserve."

To stop himself from thanking her, he scoffed. "Fuck off, you pracitse that speech?"

Her laughter spilled from her like it was a surprise. "No actually, kind of just went with it. Freestyle," she joked.

Kiera began honking the car horn impatiently, no doubt annoying their neighbours so Laura left quickly but not without telling him that she meant every word she'd said. Mickey closed the door and Ian instantly wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, his chin resting on his shoulder. Holding on like he was aware of how weak Mickey felt at that moment, so overwhelmed that he had made someone proud.

They stayed like that for a long time, staring at the closed door, so close together that they ran the risk of over heating. It felt final to them both; complete. Neither of them could explain it nor were they going to but they knew that was it. Just the two of them. So in love that they didn't even know it.


End file.
